He sat so absorbed in his own fancies and feelings that he was unaware of the rumble of a carriage and the ‘clicking of horses’ hoofs over the cobbles of the place, but he knew of these things a moment later when the broad-beamed Evariste rapped at his study-door, and announced two gentlemen to see him. Straight upon her heels came Darco in a silk hat of splendid lustre, and a nobly frogged overcoat with costly astrachan at cuffs and collar, as though, instead of being the sweltering day it was, it had been mid-winter. Behind him came Pauer, in tweeds and a white waistcoat, his face gold colour with his ancient jaundice, and his eyes a pale saffron. They were both in the best of good humours, and Darco stood on tiptoe to take Paul by the shoulders.
‘Ve have done id!’ he cried in a voice of triumph. ‘Ve have done id this time, ant no mistake!’
‘What have you done?’ asked Paul.
‘Vot have we done, Pauer—eh? Vot haf we done?’ cried Darco. ‘Tell him and have done with it,’ said Pauer.
‘Ve have bought the Goncreve,’ said Darco, with a glowing air of triumph.
‘Bought the what?’ asked Paul.
‘The Congreve Theatre,’ Pauer explained.
‘Ah!’ said Paul.
‘That is vot I am zayink,’ cried Darco. ‘Ve haf bought the Goncreve. It is in the handts of the decorators now. Ve shall oben in the first week of Sebtemper, ant ve are coing for the gloves. Ve are coing to oben with a gomedy. Do you hear? A gomedy. Ant you ant I are coing to write that gomedy. Do you understandt?’ He slipped out of his overcoat, and threw it into the arm-chair in the corner. Then he banged the lustrous hat upon the table, and snatching up a pen, thrust it into Paul’s hand. ‘Ve are coing to wride that gomedy, ant ve are coing to begin at vonce—eh?’
‘Why, certainly,’ said Paul. ‘Have you got an idea to work on?’