"Andre, you must!"
There was in this insistence and, still more, in the frenzied manner of it, something so unreasonable that Andre could not fail to assume that some dark and mysterious motive lay behind it.
"I must?" he echoed. "Why must I? Your reasons, monsieur?"
"Andre, my reasons are overwhelming."
"Pray allow me to be the judge of that." Andre-Louis' manner was almost peremptory.
The demand seemed to reduce M. de Kercadiou to despair. He paced the room, his hands tight-clasped behind him, his brow wrinkled. At last he came to stand before his godson.
"Can't you take my word for it that these reasons exist?" he cried in anguish.
"In such a matter as this-a matter that may involve my neck? Oh, monsieur, is that reasonable?"
"I violate my word of honour, my oath, if I tell you.
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