‘Man alife!’ ejaculated Darco. ‘I zaid zo.’
‘You said distinctly,’ said Pauer, ‘“gild the boots that lace the golden legs.”’
‘Ferry well,’ said Darco. ‘I zay zo. Vot are you talking apout?’
Pauer looked at his watch.
‘I must settle up and march, George,’ he said ‘If you carry that business through, let me know. I’m willing to join.’
He followed his circus, which, as Paul gathered, had made a start at five o’clock that morning, and Darco and his new secretary took train for London. The two had a second-class carriage to themselves.
‘You haf lodgings somevares—eh? Darco asked.
‘In Charterhouse Square,’ Paul answered.
‘That is too far away,’ said his employer. ‘I lif at Hamp-stead. You must get lotchings glose by me. You haf got no money?’
‘No money,’ said Paul.