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“The Wolf is hurt, and the Spider, I think, has his neck very neatly broken. I came to tell you that your cousin Emile is in the city.”

The effect of these words was amazing, electric. Cousin Alfred turned a corpselike green; he froze in his tracks; his eyes rolled in their sockets.

“Emile! Here!” His teeth chattered, he plucked at his collar as if he were strangling. “Then–you? Who are you?”

Roly shrugged. “I am one of the others. I was sent to warn you.” He recognized now the character of the old fellow’s emotion. It was cowardice, terror, but of such utter foulness as to be disgusting.

Evidently this Emile, whoever he was, had a reputation. Roly multiplied his host’s discomfiture by adding:

“Yes; he struck down the Wolf in the street; then dropped the Spider on his head from the top of a staircase.”

“God help us!” stammered Cousin Alfred. “He will take me next! Oh, he has threatened me–” He cast a frightened glance over his shoulder, as if expecting the sanguinary Emile to appear at any moment. Then he began to whine: “I know him, I know him. And the servants gone! I–I am an old man; he would like nothing better than to find me alone. But how–how dared he come? Wait! It was Felice. Ho! I’ll wager she sent for him; and he would not refuse, the scoundrel!” The speaker’s lips were wet and loose, his gaze was very evil as he mumbled along.

Felice must be the other girl, the one for whom Madelon had gone, Roly decided. In view of Alfred’s evident hatred, it did not seem right to allow Madelon to bring the other girl without some warning. One glance at those working features convinced the young man that such a meeting would be dangerous; and yet he was quite at a loss how to prevent it. His host was running on.

“It was only yesterday that she appealed to me, she and Madelon, and all the time they knew he was coming.” He ground his teeth. “I have been a fool to spare them so long.”

“This Felice,” Van Dam ventured, groping blindly for some clue, “your cousin Emile is fond of her, I judge.”

“Damnation! He would pass through fire for her. And she would sacrifice her soul for him.” Alfred poured himself a drink with shaking hand. The glass rattled against the decanter; he spilled the wine over his waistcoat as he gulped it.

“So they planned to catch me napping, eh? But we shall see. Yes, yes! We shall see.” After a moment, during which he pulled himself together, he continued: “You shall remain here with me. When he comes we shall afford him a surprise.” He slid open a drawer in the big desk and took from it a revolver, at which Roly exclaimed:

“I say–whatever makes you think he’ll come here?”

“Oh, he will come! There is no doubt of it. He has promised me that much. Those were his last words–“

“Er–why don’t you clear out? You don’t have to stay and see him.”

But the old man’s eyes were red and vindictive as he shook his head. “You don’t understand. So long as he lives we are none of us safe, not even you. Besides, he would return again; he hangs upon me like a leech. I–I dream about him.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

“If I–if I should kill him, the law would say nothing. I could kill him very easily and nothing would be said. You understand?” Cousin Alfred’s lips were watery; little drops of moisture gleamed upon his sallow face; he eyed the pistol with a shrinking fascination. “I–I–” He fell to trembling weakly, as his first desperation cooled.

Van Dam watched him curiously. He looked up, at length, to meet Roly’s gaze. His own eyes were wavering; his face was distorted with mingled fear and eagerness. He stretched his neck, as if he already felt on it the fingers of his cousin Emile. When Van Dam did not offer to help him he whined: “He has always intended to even up the score; but I am an old man. My hand is unsteady. Perhaps you–It would be worth something to escape those dreams! I could afford to pay well, as you know. You are a strong man. You have no nerves; your hand is sure–” The old villain’s expression was crafty; he was gnawed by a fierce desire that he was loath to put into words.