The Tiger Lily Part 36

"Four--five--and all were journalistes. I was in two as princ.i.p.al, in two as friend of my friend, and in ze oder one I go as ze friend of ze docteur."

"Then you quite understand how it should be carried out?"

"Yes, yes, yes," said Leronde, nearly closing his eyes, and nodding his head many times. "Soyez content. I mean make yourself sholly comfortable, and it shall all go off to ze marvel."

"Very well, then; I leave myself in your hands."

"That is good. Everything shall be done, as you say, first-cla.s.s."

"And about weapons?"

"You are ze person insulte, and you have ze choice. Le sword, of course?" cried Leronde; and, throwing himself on guard, he foiled, parried, and hopped about the studio, as if he were encountering an enemy.

"Sit down, man," said Armstrong peevishly. "No; I choose the pistol."

"My friend! Oh!"

"It is shorter and sharper."

"But you do not vant to shoot ze man for stealing--fence like angels, and there will be a little gentlemanly play; you p.r.i.c.k ze Conte in ze arm, honneur is satisfy, you embrace, and we return to Paris. What can be better than that?"

"Pistol!" said Armstrong sternly.

"But you do not want to shoot ze man for stealing away his vife."

"No," said Armstrong, in a low voice. "I want him to shoot me."

"Ha, ha! You are a fonnay fellow, my dear Dale. You will not talk like zat when you meet ze sword?"

"Pistols."

"As you will," said the Frenchman, shrugging his shoulders. "You are my princ.i.p.al, and I see zat your honneur is satisfy. I go then to see ze friend of M'sieu le Conte, and to make all ze preparations for to cross to Belgium; but, my faith, my dear Dale, it is very awkward: I have not ze small shange for all ze preliminary. May I ask you to be my banker?"

"Yes, of course. I ought to have thought," said Armstrong.

He went to his desk and took out the necessary sum, pa.s.sed it to the voluble little Frenchman, who rose, shook him by both hands, looked at him with tears in his eyes, told him he was proud of him, and then hurried off with his head erect his hat slightly c.o.c.ked, and his eyes now sparkling with excitement.

"Step ze first to be in ordaire; whom shall ve 'ave for ze ozaire seconde?"

He frowned severely and walked on a few yards, looking very thoughtful.

Then the idea came.

"Of course: Shoe Pacey. He vill be proud to go viz me to meet ze ozaire secondes."

Leronde had been in the lowest of low spirits that morning. The news from Paris had been most disastrous for gentlemen of communistic principles, who, in spite of crying "Vive la Commune!" saw the unfortunate idol of their lives withering and dying daily. Money, too, had been very "shorts," as he called it, and he had gone to Armstrong Dale's in the most despondent manner. But now all that was altered. He had money in his purse, and walked as if on air. There was no opportunity for following the tracks of either "la gloire, or l'amour;"

but here was "l'honneur," the other person of a Frenchman's trinity, calling him to the front; and on the strength of the funds in hand, he entered the first tobacconist's, bought a whole ninepenny packet of cigarettes, and then smoked in triumph all the way to Pacey's lodgings.

This gentleman was growling over a notice of the Old Masters' Exhibition which he had written for a morning paper, and with which, to use his own words, "the humbug of an editor had taken confounded liberties."

"Hallo! Signor Barricado, what's up? Republic gone to the dogs?"

"No, no, mon ami; but great news--a secret."

"Keep it, then."

"No, no; it is for you as well. An affaire of honneur."

"An affair of fluff! Bos.h.!.+ we don't fight here."

"No," said Leronde, frowning fiercely. "Belgium."

"Why, you confounded young donkey, whom are you going to fight?"

"I fight? But, no; I am one seconde. I come to you as my dear friend to be ze ozaire."

"Oh, of course," cried Pacey ironically. "Exactly--just in my line."

"I knew you would," cried Leronde, lighting a fresh cigarette, and offering the packet, which was refused.

"Bah! I like a draught, not a spoonful," growled Pacey, taking up and filling his big meerschaum. "Now then, about this honour mania? Who's the happy man?"

"Armstrong Dale, of course, for certaine."

"What!" roared Pacey. "Who with?"

"Ze Conte Dellatoria, my friend."

"The devil. Has it come to that?"

"But, yes. Why not? Zes huzziband is sure to find out some ozaire day."

"Phew!" whistled Pacey, wiping his brow. Then striking a match, he began to smoke tremendously.

"And you will help our friend?" said Leronde.

"Help him? Certainly."

"I knew it. Pacey, my friend, you are one grand big brique."

"Oh yes, I am," cried Pacey banteringly. "Now then, how was it?"

"Ze Conte follow his vife to chez Armstrong, find zem togezzer, and knog our dear friend down viz a cane."

"Humph! Serious as that?"

"Oh yes. There is a great offence, of course. Zey meet in Belgium, and we go togezzer to see ze friend of ze Conte and arrange ze--ze--ze--vat you call zem?"

"Preliminaries?"