Bruslart looked at him steadily for a moment. "Again I thank you," he
said quietly, "but, my friend, you are not the only man who is competent
to prophesy in what direction things may turn. You have set yourself a
goal to win, so have I. It would almost seem that you expect our aims to
clash."

"Diable! Is that all you can see in good advice," said Latour. "I
thought your wit went deeper."

"Need we quarrel?" said Bruslart.

"No; let us laugh at each other. In our different ways, doubtless, we
shall both be satisfied."

Latour did not often laugh, but he laughed now as he turned to the door.
The curtains over the archway leading to an inner room swayed outwards
with the draught as he opened the door, and then seemed to draw back
suddenly, as Latour said good-by, still laughing. The door was closed,
the footsteps went quickly down the stairs, the curtains hung straight
for a little space. Then they parted sharply, and a woman, holding them
on either side of her, stood between them.




CHAPTER VII

A JEALOUS WOMAN