"For goodness' sake, child, don't cry. Come, sit down and tell me all about it."
"Monsieur, do not touch me!"
"Touch you! Why, I'm old enough to be your father, child!"
"Monsieur, I desire you not to touch me!"
She withdrew her hand from the pocket of her dress; in it she was holding a revolver. Mr. Kennard stared at her, his whole face a vivid note of exclamation … "You—little firebrand!"
"I was aware that in my situation I was liable to be insulted. I can assure monsieur that I am prepared. May I again ask monsieur to confine himself to the business which is in hand."
"What do you call the business which is in hand? Do you suppose"—with sudden ferocity Mr. Kennard thrust his hands into his trousers pockets—"Is it possible that you suppose that I was seriously offering you ten thousand francs to kill the President?"
The contrast between the man's amazement and the girl's seriousness was, in its way, ludicrous.
"What, then, is the deed which you would have me do?"
"Deed I would have you do!" With both hands Mr. Kennard rumpled his hair. He turned to Willie Nash. "Nash, did you hear her? She asks me what is the deed I would have her do, as if I were the villain at the Vic and she my ruthless minion."
Although Mr. Kennard spoke to his friend in English, something in his manner seemed all at once to give the girl a glimpse at the sort of man he really was. With understanding the tears came again into her eyes.
