“Fifty-four Napoleons and a half,” said the other, slowly. “Look ye, Calvert, I’m going to impound this. It’s a sorry instalment, but, as far as it goes—”
“Take it, old fellow, and leave me quiet.”
“One word more, Calvert,” said Barnard, seriously. “I cannot muster courage to meet old Rep this morning, and if you like to start at once and settle this affair you have in Switzerland, I’m ready, but it must be done instanter.”
“All right; I shall be ready within an hour. Tell the porter to send my bath up at once, and order coffee by the time you’ll be dressed.”
There was very little trace of sleep about Calvert’s face now, as, springing from his bed, he prepared for the road. With such despatch, indeed, did he proceed, that he was already in the coffee-room before his friend had descended.
“Shall we say anything to the landlord before we start, Calvert?” whispered he.
“Of course; send Signor Angelo, or Antonio, or whatever his name, here. The padrone, I mean,” said he to the waiter.
“He is called Luigi Filippo, Sir,” said the man indignantly.
“A capital name for a rogue. Let us have him here.”
A very burly consequential sort of man, marvellously got up as to beard, moustaches, and watch-chain, entered and bowed.