"You know the way to find it quickly," he suggested.

"The letters for La Pompadour?" I asked.

"A dead man's waste papers," responded he; "of no use to him or
you, or any one save the Grande Marquise."

"Valuable to me," said I.

"None but the Grande Marquise and the writer would give you a
penny for them!"

"Why should I not be my own merchant?"

"You can--to me. If not to me, to no one. You had your chance long
ago, and you refused it. You must admit I dealt fairly with you.
I did not move till you had set your own trap and fallen into it.
Now, if you do not give me the letters--well, you will give them to
none else in this world. It has been a fair game, and I am winning
now. I've only used means which one gentleman might use with
another. Had you been a lesser man I should have had you spitted
long ago. You understand?"

"Perfectly. But since we have played so long, do you think I'll
give you the stakes now--before the end?"

"It would be wiser," he answered thoughtfully.

"I have a nation behind me," urged I.