The double password had reassured him.
"Pardon, monsieur," he said, "these have been anxious hours." "The little affair at La Turbie ?" Selingman suggested.
Coulois set down his glass for the first time half finished.

His mouth had taken an evil turn.

He leaned across the table.
"See you," he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, "what happened, happened justly! Martin is responsible.

The whole thing was conducted in the spirit of a pantomime, a great joke.

Who are we, the Wolves, to brandish empty firearms, to shrink from letting a little blood! Bah!" He finished his wine.