“And besides,” added Vidal, “Picard is bringing out some novels, as you know. We have been promised twenty per cent on the published price to make the thing a success.”
“Very well, at twelve months,” the publisher answered in a piteous voice, thunderstruck by Vidal’s confidential remark.
“Is it an offer?” Porchon inquired curtly.
“Yes.” The stranger went out. After he had gone, Lucien heard Porchon say to Vidal:
“We have three hundred copies on order now. We will keep him waiting for his settlement, sell the Léonides for five francs net, settlement in six months, and——”
“And that will be fifteen hundred francs into our pockets,” said Vidal.
“Oh, I saw quite well that he was in a fix. He is giving Ducange four thousand francs for two thousand copies.”
Lucien cut Vidal short by appearing in the entrance of the den.
“I have the honor of wishing you a good day, gentlemen,” he said, addressing both partners. The booksellers nodded slightly.
“I have a French historical romance after the style of Scott. It is called The Archer of Charles IX.; I propose to offer it to you——”