“I shall have to sign about three hundred and forty separate papers.”
“Well—I’d do that in half-an-hour; but if you really are busy, I won’t keep you. I’ll come and dine with you to-day.”
“Very good—and in that case, I’ll see——”
“Don’t give yourself any trouble. I’ll call in and see Hortense myself. You know you needn’t make any difference in your ways for me, and I daresay you couldn’t very well afford it either.”
Van Arlen looked at his brother-in-law as if to ask, “Do you mean to insult me,” but his expression changed as he met the glance of the cheery but penetrating eyes. “Living is dear at the Hague,” he said.
“The more fool you, then, to stay here—and with seven daughters, too! Just listen, Van Arlen,—I have a plan, but I can’t carry it out without your help.”
“Let me hear it before I promise.”
“My plan is—to make Van Arlen rich.... Where did you get that ridiculous thing?” he suddenly broke off.
“Which?” asked the official—following Prigson’s eye, which was directed to his breast.
“Why—that bit of ribbon. I never heard of your getting it. From Santa Claus, I suppose?”