“Louis,” I said, “tell me about this little excursion of ours.  Who are these men whom we are going to meet?”

He turned towards me.  The last few hours seemed to have brought us into a greater intimacy.  He addressed me by name, and his manner, although it was still respectful enough, was somehow altered.

“Captain Rotherby,” he said, “you do not seem to appreciate the position in which you stand.  You are young, and life is hot in your veins, and yet to-day, as you sit there, your liberty is forfeit,—­perhaps even, if Tapilow should die, your life!  Have you ever heard any stories, I wonder,” he added, leaning a little toward me, “about French prisons?”

“Are you trying to frighten me, Louis?” I asked.

“No!” he answered, “but I want you to realize that you are in a very serious position.”

“I know that,” I answered.  “Don’t think, Louis,” I continued, “that what I did last night was the result of a rash impulse.  I had sworn since a certain day in the autumn of last year that the first time I came face to face with that man, whether it was in the daytime or the nighttime, in a friend’s house or on the street, I would punish him.  Well, I have kept my word.  I had to.  I have had my fill of vengeance.  He can go through the rest of his life, so far as I am concerned, unharmed.  But what I did, I was bound to do, and I am ready to face the consequences, if necessary.”

Louis nodded sympathetically.

“Monsieur,” said he, “you have but to talk like that to convince the men whom you will meet in a few moments that you had a real grievance against Tapilow, and all may yet be well.”

“Who are these men?” I asked.  “Is it a police court to which you are taking me?”

“Monsieur,” Louis answered, “there are things which I cannot any longer conceal from you.  I myself, believe me, am merely an outsider.  I am, as you know, a hardworking man with a responsible position and a family to support.  But here in Paris I come on to the fringe of a circle of life with which I have no direct connection, and yet whose happenings sometimes touch upon the lives of my friends and intimates.  It is a circle of life into which is drawn much that is splendid, much that is brilliant; but, monsieur, it is life outside the law, life which does as it thinks fit, which lives its own way, and recognizes no laws save its own interests.”

I nodded.

“Go on, Louis, please,” I said, “Tell me, for example, who these men are whom I am going to meet.”

“They are men,” Louis answered, “who have great influence in that world of which I spoke.  The law cannot touch them, or if it could it would not.  They wield a power greater than the power which drives the wheels of government in this country.  If they hear your story, and they think well, you will go free, even though the man Tapilow should die.”

“You believe this, Louis?” I asked curiously.