was alone in the pretty chintz bedroom where Edith had put me I took the note from my pocket and read:
"How does it happen? How, how, how? Oh, my dear, are you your own man? Meet me in the rose garden at Bagatelle to-morrow morning at 11. Don't dare to fail me.L."
Let me tell you, my friend, that I was not pleased with this note. Léontine was not for me. She belonged to the Under-World—or at best the Half-World—and I had put all thought of her away from me with the criminal life which I had passed my word to give up. Whether she was an anarchiste, a spy, or one of Ivan's organised mob, I did not know, and had no wish to find out.
At first I thought that I would send her a line to say that my past and everything included in it was blotted out. Mind you, I had known Léontine for only about five hours, and then, except for the few minutes when we were in John's house, in the company of a gay crowd of high-rolling thieves. So it seemed a little thick that she should bother me now when I had escaped a life sentence by a miracle—or as Edith said, "the grace of God." I owed her nothing, but she owed me a lot and I thought that the best way would be to write and claim that she pay me the debt by leaving me alone.
Thinking it over, however, I decided that this very payment was probably the only one that a woman like Léontine would refuse to meet, unless absolutely convinced that it was the only one which I would ever accept. Besides, I had a feeling that down underneath there was a lot of heart to Léontine and a little good sense. So I decided to meet her and
