“Bravo!” said Cecil.
“And that’s so!” Belmont remarked, dropping the paper. “I went to 155, Rue de la Paix myself yesterday, and was told that nothing whatever was to be had, not at any price.”
“Perhaps you didn’t offer enough,” said Cecil.
“Moreover, I notice the advertisement does not appear to-day. I guess the authorities have crumpled it up.”
“Still——” Cecil went on monotonously.
“Look here,” said Belmont, grim and a little nettled. “Just to cut it short, I’ll bet you a two-hundred-dollar dinner at Paillard’s that you can’t get seats for to-night—not even two, let alone four.”
“You really want to bet?”
“Well,” drawled Belmont, with a certain irony, slightly imitating Cecil’s manner, “it means something to eat for these ladies.”
“I accept,” said Cecil. And he rang the bell.