¡¡Sometimes
D'Arnot
accompanied
him
on
his
visits
to
the
De
Coude
home,
for
he
had
long
known
both
Olga
and
the
count.
Occasionally
De
Coude
dropped
in,
but
the
multitudinous
affairs
of
his
official
position
and
the
never-ending
demands
of
politics
kept
him
from
home
usually
until
late
at
night.
"I can't get ready so soon as that," replied Jane. "It will take a whole month, at least."
Suddenly the explanation leaped to his mind—his antagonist was coolly taking these terrible chances in the hope that he would receive no staggering wound from any of De Coude's three shots. Then he would take his own time about shooting De Coude down deliberately, coolly, and in cold blood. A little shiver ran up the Frenchman's spine. It was fiendish—diabolical. What manner of creature was this that could stand complacently with two bullets in him, waiting for the third?