Daumont woke shortly thereafter to the smell of rot and piss. He opened his eyes to familiar faces.
"Hello, Captain!"
Daumont followed his eyes up from a pair of skinny ankles to long lanky legs and finally to the greasy hair and smiling face of Louise.
"Where am I?" Daumont sat up and saw maybe six or seven of his crew staring at him from the dark, the only sound coming from a rat digging in the straw in a corner. Then he remembered what had happened and looked at each face more carefully, trying to make out their features in the low light. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Did any of you see Marguerite?" He asked.
"I'm right here." Daumont spun his head around and lept to his feet to see Marguerite peering in at him and his men from behind a small barred window. He ran up to grip the bars and pull his face to be eye level with hers.
"Do you have keys?" He hissed urgently.
"No," she said back, not matching his tone but rather taking a casual cadence and volume.
"Are you stupid?" He shook his head in disbelief, "What are you doing here then? Run!" That's when he noticed that though her face was still gaunt with the effects of tuberculosis, she was having no trouble standing to face him.
A voice echoed down the hall, "Madame, are you almost finished?" the voice spoke in French, but with a thick Spanish accent. Daumont's face turned slack-jawed, then twisted.
"How much did they give you?" He said with dangerous calm.
"Enough for treatment in Europe." Her face was regretful but not remorseful.
"How could you?" his voice shook, "You may live, but I'll die!"
"Then we both got what we wanted."