"You shall have him. You shall have half-a-dozen if you like. I am only too pleased to be able to help in such a good work. You shall have Pierre Lepallard, my right-hand. I cannot give you a better. Nothing escapes Pierre, and he is discreet, oh, yes, my friend, he is discreet. He will not obtrude himself, but he will know all that your friend does, to whom he speaks, what he said to him, and sometimes even what he intends doing before he does it."
"In that case he is just the man for me," I replied. "I am exceedingly obliged to you for your considerate courtesy. Some day I may be able to repay it."
Within half-an-hour the estimable Lepallard had been made acquainted with his duties, and within an hour a ragged tatterdemalion of a man was selling matches on the opposite side of the road to that on which Hayle's apartments were situated.
I reached the restaurant at which we were to dine that evening punctual to the moment, only to find that Hayle had not yet arrived. For a minute I was tempted to wonder whether he had given me the slip again, but while the thought was passing through my mind a cab drove up, and the gentleman himself alighted.
"I must beg your pardon for keeping you waiting," he said apologetically. "As your host I should have been here first. That would have been the case had I not been detained at the last moment by an old friend. Pray forgive me!"
I consented to do so, and we entered the restaurant together.
I discovered that he had already engaged a table, arranged the menu, and bespoken the wines. We accordingly sat down, and the strangest meal of which I had ever partaken commenced. Less than a week before, the man sitting in front of me had endeavoured to bring about my destruction; now he was my host, and to all outward appearances my friend as well. I found him a most agreeable companion, a witty conversationalist, and a born raconteur. He seemed to have visited every part of the known globe; had been a sailor, a revolutionist in South America, a blackbirder in the Pacific, had seen something of what he called the "Pig-tail trade" to Borneo, some very queer life in India, that is to say, in the comparatively unknown native states and had come within an ace of having been shot by the French during the war in Madagascar.
"In point of fact," he said, "I may say that I have travelled from Dan to Beersheba, and, until I struck this present vein of good fortune, had found all barren. Some day, if I can summon up sufficient courage, I shall fit out an expedition and return to the place whence the stones came, and get some more, but not just at present. Events have been a little too exciting there of late to let us consider it a healthy country. By the way, have you heard from our friend, Kitwater, yet?"
"I have," I answered, "and his reply is by no means satisfactory."
"I understand you to mean that he will not entertain my offer?"