I tell you, it
must stop; push me much further and I promise you a surprise."
"It does not become you to use threats," returned Vandeleur. "Two
can play at that. My brother is here in Paris; the police are on
the alert; and if you persist in wearying me with your
caterwauling, I will arrange a little astonishment for you, Mr.
Rolles. But mine shall be once and for all. Do you understand, or
would you prefer me to tell it you in Hebrew? There is an end to
all things, and you have come to the end of my patience. Tuesday,
at seven; not a day, not an hour sooner, not the least part of a
second, if it were to save your life. And if you do not choose to
wait, you may go to the bottomless pit for me, and welcome."
And so saying, the Dictator arose from the bench, and marched off
in the direction of Montmartre, shaking his head and swinging his
cane with a most furious air; while his companion remained where he
was, in an attitude of great dejection.
Francis was at the pitch of surprise and horror; his sentiments had
been shocked to the last degree; the hopeful tenderness with which
he had taken his place upon the bench was transformed into
repulsion and despair; old Mr. Scrymgeour, he reflected, was a far
more kindly and creditable parent than this dangerous and violent
intriguer; but he retained his presence of mind, and suffered not a
moment to elapse before he was on the trail of the Dictator.
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