In a few minutes a door opened, which led into a suite of apartments in the rear of the hotel, and the boy, with the map in his hand, came into the hall, nodding his head, and looking very much pleased; talking all the time, moreover, in a very voluble but perfectly unintelligible manner. A moment after he came the door opened again, and a very respectably dressed man, of middle age, came into the hall. The boy pointed to Rollo, and said something to this man.
"Are you going to the Garden of Plants?" said the man to Rollo, speaking in English, though with a very decidedly foreign accent.
"And did you invite Carlos to go with you?"
"Yes, sir," said Rollo; "only I did not know that his name was Carlos. He told me something very different from that. What language is it that he talks? Is it French?"
"No," replied the man, "it is Spanish. He is a Spanish boy. He cannot understand a word of French or English. But he may go with you to the Garden of Plants."
"Are you his father, sir?" asked Rollo.
"No," replied the man, "I am his father's courier."[E]
So saying, the man passed on, leaving Rollo and Carlos together.
"Come, Carlos," said Rollo, "let us go into uncle George's room, and see if he is not ready to go."