"
"Then it was Jules----?"
"No; Jules doesn't know enough. It was de Lorgnes, of course. I thought
you'd guess that."
"How should I?"
"Didn't you know he was the premier cracksman of France? That is, going
on Mademoiselle Delorme's account of him; she says there was never
anybody like that poor devil for putting the comether on a
safe--barring yourself, Monsieur le Loup Seul, in your palmy days. And
she ought to know; those two have been working together since the Lord
knows when. A sound, conservative bird, de Lorgnes; very discreet,
tight-mouthed even when drunk--which was too often."
"But--this is most interesting--how did you get separated, you and de
Lorgnes?"
"Bad luck, a black night, and--I guess there's no more question about
this--your friend, Popinot-Dupont. I'll say this for that blighter: as
a self-made spoil-sport, he sure did give service!"
Phinuit gave his whiskey and soda a reminiscent grin.
"And we thought we were being bright, at that! We'd figured every move
to the third decimal point. The only uncertain factor in our
calculations, as we thought, was you.
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