"
"The Hotel Bezers! Rue de Platriere!" I cried confusedly. "But
Blaise Bure told us that this was the Rue St. Antoine!"
"Ah!" he replied as if slowly enlightened--the hypocrite! "Ah!
I see!" and he smiled grimly. "So you have made the
acquaintance of Blaise Bure, my excellent master of the horse!
Worthy Blaise! Indeed, indeed, now I understand. And you
thought, you whelps," he continued, and as he spoke his tone
changed strangely, and he fixed us suddenly with angry eyes, "to
play a rubber with me! With me, you imbeciles! You thought the
wolf of Bezers could be hunted down like any hare! Then listen,
and I will tell you the end of it. You are now in my house and
absolutely at my mercy. I have two score men within call who
would cut the throats of three babes at the breast, if I bade
them! Ay," he, added, a wicked exultation shining in his eyes,
"they would, and like the job!"
He was going on to say more, but I interrupted him. The rage I
felt, caused as much by the thought of our folly as by his
arrogance, would let me be silent no longer.
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