ng," said Monsieur
Guillaume, with a smile.

Of a certainty a man should not mingle love and business, especially,
perhaps, when neither the love nor the business can be said properly to
belong to him.

CHAPTER IX

THE STRAW IN THE CORNER

There was nothing odd in M. Guillaume's presence, however little the
lady or the Captain had suspected it. The surprise he gave was a
reprisal for that which he had suffered when, after the Captain's exit,
he had recovered his full faculties and heard a furtive movement within
the hut. It was the inspiration and the work of a moment to raise
himself with an exaggerated effort and a purposed noise, and to take
his departure with a tread heavy enough to force itself on the ears of
the unknown person inside. But he did not go far. To what purpose
should he, since it was vain to hope to overtake the Captain or Paul de
Roustache? Some one was left behind; then, successful or unsuccessful,
the Captain would return--unless Paul murdered him, a catastrophe which
would be irremediable, but was exceedingly unlikely. Guillaume mounted
to the top of the eminence and flung himself down in the grass; thence
he crawled round the summit, descended again with a stealthiness in
striking contrast to his obtrusive ascent, and lay down in the dark
shadow of the hut itself. In about twenty minutes his patience was
rewarded: the lady came out,--she had forgotten to mention this little
excursion to the Captain,--mounted the rise, looked round, and walked
down towards the Cross. Presumably she was looking for a sight of
Dieppe. In a few minutes she returned. Guillaume was no longer lying
by the hut, but was safe inside it under the straw. She found Dieppe's
matches, relighted the candle, and sat down in the doorway with her
back to the straw. Thus each had kept a silent vigil until the Captain
returned to the rendezvous. Guillaume felt that he had turned a rather
unpromising situation to very good account. He was greatly and
naturally angered with Paul de Roustache: the loss of his portfolio was
grievous. But the Captain was his real quarry; the Captain's papers
would more than console him for his money; and he had a very pretty
plan for dealing with the Captain.

Nothing was to be gained by sitting upright. In a moment Dieppe
realised this, and sank back on his truss of straw. He glanced at
Guillaume's menacing weapon, and thence at Guillaume himself. "Your
play, my friend," he