If five hundred louis is not enough, name your price, but let there be no doubt.

Let me see what the Wolves can do when it is their leader who handles the knife!" The face of the dancer was curiously impassive.

He lifted his glass and drained it.
"An affair of death!" he exclaimed softly.

"We Wolves--we bite, we wound, we rob.

But death--ugh! There are ugly things to be thought of." "And pleasant ones," Draconmeyer reminded him.