I was lucky enough to lose a considerable sum to him, which I paid with a good grace, and he could not do less than invite me to his house. I accepted the invitation with an eagerness which must have struck him as rather ill-bred, and we drove there together. Over a bottle of champagne I became confidential. I avowed myself to be a money-lender, as well as a concession-hunter, and hinted that I should be prepared to pay handsomely for introductions to clients of high station.
Mendelieff took the bait like a hungry pike. He was the first to mention the name of the Grand Duke, doubtless knowing that his Imperial Highness would be only too pleased to meet such an accommodating person as I appeared to be. A bargain was struck, and Mendelieff promised to let me know as soon as he had arranged for my reception by his august patron.
The meeting took place in the Prince’s own house. Cards were produced, the stakes were exceedingly high, and rather against my wish I won steadily, while the losses of the Grand Duke were severe enough to disturb his good humour. Mendelieff artfully seized the right moment to present me as a friend in need, and to take off the rest of the party, leaving us together.
The Grand Duke lost no time in putting me to the proof.
‘You are a banker, are you not, M. de Sarthe?’—De Sarthe was the name under which I had crossed the frontier.
‘At least, I represent some important financial houses,’ I replied.
‘Oh, spare me that kind of thing,’ his Imperial Highness returned impatiently, ‘let us take the usual comedy for granted, and tell me frankly how much you are prepared to lend me.’
‘I do not know how much you want, sir, but I have any sum up to a million roubles at your service.’
The Grand Duke’s eyes sparkled.
‘M. de Sarthe, you are a friend indeed!’ he exclaimed. ‘But what are your terms for this advance?’