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8. The Sins of Prince Saradine (continued)
"Laughing, God help us!" said Flambeau with a strong shudder. "Do they get such ideas from Satan?"
"He got that idea from you," answered the priest.
"God forbid!" ejaculated Flambeau. "From me! What do you mean!"
The priest pulled a visiting-card from his pocket and held it up in the faint glow of his cigar; it was scrawled with green ink.
"Don't you remember his original invitation to you?" he asked, "and the compliment to your criminal exploit? `That trick of yours,' he says, `of getting one detective to arrest the other'? He has just copied your trick. With an enemy on each side of him, he slipped swiftly out of the way and let them collide and kill each other."
Flambeau tore Prince Saradine's card from the priest's hands and rent it savagely in small pieces.
"There's the last of that old skull and crossbones," he said as he scattered the pieces upon the dark and disappearing waves of the stream; "but I should think it would poison the fishes."
The last gleam of white card and green ink was drowned and darkened; a faint and vibrant colour as of morning changed the sky, and the moon behind the grasses grew paler. They drifted in silence.
"Father," said Flambeau suddenly, "do you think it was all a dream?"
The priest shook his head, whether in dissent or agnosticism, but remained mute. A smell of hawthorn and of orchards came to them through the darkness, telling them that a wind was awake; the next moment it swayed their little boat and swelled their sail, and carried them onward down the winding river to happier places and the homes of harmless men.
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