"We became acquaintances, friends, inseparable brothers—we became necessary to each other.
"We combine our forces, we cheat the world, and we reap a golden harvest.
"The world is so gullible chère amie. Why not glean the benefit then?
"'I must go to London,' says my friend, in March; 'better come along. We can always pigeon the subs, and they are always to be found there.'
"My friend was a great player, but he spoke ill, even coarsely at times.
"So be it, camerade!' I cry and we go.
"At first we do well; we enter humble circles, and we mount to higher every day; the purse is very full, the heart is very merry, when, ouais! hush! Monsieur Mortlake becomes mysterious, close, unjust—says:
"'Better keep out of sight for a while, Calembours; I can't be seen with a notorious harpy like you just now; the circle I'm getting into won't care for a dirty little Frenchman. They're exclusive.'
"'Merci, Monsieur Mortlake,' I return, 'Napoleon the brave thought Calembours worthy of the Legion of Honor; but perhaps your circle are right, and are exclusive of the nobility.'
"We part good friends, though, for are we not necessary to each other? He goes his way and I go mine, but I set myself to know the reason why.