Amazed, in spite of his audacity, the half-caste recoiled a step.

“What, sir!” resumed Rodin.  “You come here into a respectable house, to boast that you have stolen letters, strangled this man, drugged that other?—­Why, sir, it is downright madness.  I wished to hear you to the end, to see to what extent you would carry your audacity—­for none but a monstrous rascal would venture to plume himself on such infamous crimes.  But I prefer believing, that they exist only in your imagination.”

As he barked out these words, with a degree of animation not usual in him, Rodin rose from his seat, and approached the chimney, while Faringhea, who had not yet recovered from his surprise, looked at him in silence.  In a few seconds, however, the half-caste returned, with a gloomy and savage mien:  “Take care, brother; do not force me to prove to you that I have told the truth.”

“Come, come, sir; you must be fresh from the Antipodes, to believe us Frenchmen such easy dupes.  You have, you say, the prudence of a serpent, and the courage of a lion.  I do not know if you are a courageous lion, but you are certainly not a prudent serpent.  What! you have about you a letter from M. Van Dael, by which I might be compromised—­supposing all this not to be a fable—­you have left Prince Djalma in a stupor, which would serve my projects, and from which you alone can rouse him—­you are able, you say, to strike a terrible blow at my interests—­and yet you do not consider (bold lion! crafty serpent as you are!) that I only want to gain twenty-four hours upon you.  Now, you come from the end of India to Paris, an unknown stranger—­you believe me to be as great a scoundrel as yourself,—­since you call me brother—­and do not once consider, that you are here in my power—­that this street and house are solitary, and that I could have three or four persons to bind you in a second, savage Strangler though you are!—­and that just by pulling this bell-rope,” said Rodin, as he took it in his hand.  “Do not be alarmed,” added he, with a diabolical smile, as he saw Faringhea make an abrupt movement of surprise and fright; “would I give you notice, if I meant to act in this manner?—­But just answer me.  Once bound and put in confinement for twenty-four hours, how could you injure me?  Would it not be easy for me to possess myself of Van Dael’s letter, and Djalma’s medal? and the latter, plunged in a stupor till to-morrow evening, need not trouble me at all.  You see, therefore, that your threats are vain because they rest upon falsehood—­because it is not true, that Prince Djalma is here and in your power.  Begone, sir—­leave the house; and when next you wish to make dupes, show more judgment in the selection.”