JOHN CALDWELL, LONDON
Gernois sneered, and spat out an oath.
"Just one more little payment," continued Rokoff, "and the papers I wish, and you have my word of honor that I shall never ask another cent from you, or further information."
"And a good reason why," growled Gernois. "What you ask will take my last cent, and the only valuable military secret I hold. You ought to be paying me for the information, instead of taking both it and money, too."
"I am paying you by keeping a still tongue in my head," retorted Rokoff. "But let's have done. Will you, or will you not? I give you three minutes to decide. If you are not agreeable I shall send a note to your commandant tonight that will end in the degradation that Dreyfus suffered—the only difference being that he did not deserve it."
For a moment Gernois sat with bowed head. At length he arose. He drew two pieces of paper from his blouse.
"Here," he said hopelessly. "I had them ready, for I knew that there could be but one outcome." He held them toward the Russian.
Rokoff's cruel face lighted in malignant gloating. He seized the bits of paper.
"You have done well, Gernois," he said. "I shall not trouble you again—unless you happen to accumulate some more money or information," and he grinned.
"You never shall again, you dog!" hissed Gernois. "The next time I shall kill you. I came near doing
[147]
