"Oh, gladly, monsieur!" cried Pelletan, with a deep breath of relief.
After all, is not glory the next best thing to riches?
"And your friend?"
The notary nodded a solemn promise of secrecy.
"All right," and Rushford signed. Pelletan hastily affixed his signature, and the thing was done. "Now, my friend," continued the American, "which is the swellest suite of rooms you've got in the house?"
"De luxe A," responded Pelletan. "Monsieur wishes—"
"I wish you to get it ready at once—"
"Monsieur will occupy it himself, no toubt?"
"No, I won't; I'll stay right where I am. But between seven and eight o'clock to-morrow morning, there will arrive an English ship of war—"
"A sheep-of-t'e-war!" echoed Pelletan, growing pale.
"Certainly, a ship of war, and from it there will disembark a man named
Vernon and his suite of four or five people. You will give him apartment
A."