"One minute more: you are a man, I see, from whom nothing should be hid,"
said Faringhea, "from Djalma, I could now only expect alms and
disdain--for, with a character like this, to say to him, 'Pay me, because
I might have betrayed you and did not,' would be to provoke his anger and
contempt. I could have killed him twenty times over, but his day is not
yet come," said the Thug, with a gloomy air; "and to wait for that and
other fatal days, I must have gold, much gold. You alone can pay me for
the betrayal of Djalma, for you alone profit by it. You refuse to hear
me, because you think I am deceiving you. But I took the direction of the
inn where we stopped--and here it is. Send some one to ascertain the
truth of what I tell you, and then you will believe me. But the price of
my services will be high; for I told you that I wanted much."

So saying, Faringhea offered a printed card to Rodin: the socius, who,
out of the corner of his eye, followed all the half-caste's movements,
appeared to be absorbed in thought, and taking no heed of anything.

"Here is the address," repeated Faringhea, as he held out the card to
Rodin; "assure yourself that I do not lie."

"Eh? what is it?" said the other, casting a rapid but stolen glance at
the address, which he read greedily, without touching the card.

"Take this address," repeated the half-caste, "and you may then assure
yourself--"

"Really, sir," cried Rodin, pushing back the card with his hand, "your
impudence confounds me. I repeat that I wish to have nothing in common
with you. For the last time, I tell you to leave the house. I know