“But look here, Leronde; this must be kept a secret from every one.”
“Oh, certainement, name of a visky and sodaire. I tell nobdis. You think I go blab and tell of ze meeting? Valkaire! Mums!”
“Have you ever seen one of these affairs at home?”
“Oh no, my friend, not chez-moi—at home. It was in the Bois de Boulogne.”
“And you saw one there?”
“Four—five—and all were journalistes. I was in two as principal, in two as friend of my friend, and in ze oder one I go as ze friend of ze docteur.”
“Then you quite understand how it should be carried out?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” said Leronde, nearly closing his eyes, and nodding his head many times. “Soyez content. I mean make yourself sholly comfortable, and it shall all go off to ze marvel.”
“Very well, then; I leave myself in your hands.”
“That is good. Everything shall be done, as you say, first-class.”