"Then you agree--eh?" asked Ansell, at last. "I suppose I must," was the response, as "The Eel" thrust a thousand pounds into the inner pocket of his jacket. "Must! Why, it is only fair!" declared Ansell. "Without my guidance you would never have brought off such a _coup_. Now this stuff," he added, indicating the jewellery. "I'll keep it till I get the money from old Levy--eh?" "Very well," replied his companion. "But half shares of that, you know." "Of course. That's agreed," responded the other, and both lifted the tumblers of wine in celebration of their success and safety. "Phew! How warm I feel," exclaimed "The Eel." "Take off your coat, old fellow, and wait here till the morning, Then we'll go out and wire to that old scoundrel, Levy," urged Ansell. "We can both do with an hour's rest after to-night's work." "Right. But I'll bathe my hand first. It is very painful." "Yes. Go into my room," said the other, indicating the door. Therefore Adolphe threw off his coat, hung it upon a nail, and, unwrapping his injured hand, entered the adjoining room, closing the door after him. "You'll find water in there," shouted his host, whose face, at the moment, relaxed into a hard, sinister smile. He placed his hand in his jacket pocket, and it came into contact with Jean's letter. The recollection of it maddened him. He remembered that the man in the room beyond had stood her champion, and had taken her part. "Curse you!" he muttered, beneath his breath. "What business is it of yours--you soft-hearted fool?" But scarce had the words fallen from his lips when the door opened suddenly, and the old woman from below, who acted as _concierge_, terrified and panting, entered, and with a loud whisper, cried: "Ah, M'sieur Ansell. Quick! quick! The police are here! The commissary is asking for you. Quick! Get away, or you'll be caught like a rat in a trap. You know the way. Leave the rest to me!" And without another word she disappeared, closing the door after her, while the wanted man stood staggered, pale, and dumb. CHAPTER XI. THE VOW. For a second, pale with alarm, Ralph Ansell glanced around the room. Suddenly an idea suggested itself. He was always resourceful. Next moment he dashed across to the door and locked it, afterwards rushing to the door which led into the bedroom--the room in which his friend was bathing his wound. There was a bolt upon the door, and this he slipped, thus imprisoning the man who was, as yet, unconscious of danger. Then, crossing to where Adolphe's jacket hung, he quickly drew out the twenty-five thousand francs in notes and placed them in his own pocket. He held his breath and listened. As yet, all was quiet, save for a man's rough voice below. He was apparently in conversation with Mme. Brouet's husband. That was sufficient for Ansell.