"There will be some one to pay—leave that to me. You don't understand American enterprise, Pelletan. I'm going to astonish you. Now mind one thing—if Zeit-Zeit comes over here and wants an apartment, you're to shut him out—I won't have him in the house—not at any price!"
Pelletan grew pale at the thought.
"Refuse t'e Prince of Zeit-Zeit!" he stammered.
"Yes—if you let him in, I'll kick him out. And another thing—the service has got to be first-class—the best in Europe—nothing gaudy, you understand, but a quiet elegance that will make us talked about. Do you think you can accomplish it?"
"I vill do my pest, monsieur," promised Pelletan.
"The place, of course, I'll have to take as I find it," went on Rushford, with a glance around, "though it's littered up with gewgaws and dinkey furniture which ought to be made into a bonfire. If I had a little more time, I'd re-decorate the whole house. Those imitation marble pillars over there are an insult to the intelligence."
"T'ey haf peen t'ought fery beautiful, monsieur," murmured Pelletan, humbly.
"Yes—I've noticed that Europeans have a weakness for imitations. It's a defect of character, I suppose. But there's one thing you can do—and right away. Send that boy at the desk up to his room and tell him to rip all that gold braid off his coat. To look at him, you'd think he was a major-general."
Pelletan stared at his partner to see if he was in earnest.
"Oh, I know it will be a deprivation," said the American, a glint of humour in his eyes. "You can raise his wages a franc a day to make up for it."