"Money? Pouf!" snapped the little gambler. "No, no, no! It is that M.
le Duc, impoverish', somewhat in a bad odor as he is, yet command the
entree any-where--onless I--Ha, ha! Eh, monsieur?"

"Ha! You dare think to force me--"

M. Beaucaire twirled the tip of his slender mustache around the end
of his white forefinger. Then he said: "Monsieur and me goin' to Lady
Malbourne's ball to-night--M. le Duc and me!"

The Englishman roared, "Curse your impudence!"

"Sit quiet. Oh, yes, that's all; we goin' together."

"No!"

"Certain. I make all my little plan'. 'Tis all arrange'." He paused, and
then said gravely, "You goin' present me to Lady Mary Carlisle."

The other laughed in utter scorn. "Lady Mary Carlisle, of all women
alive, would be the first to prefer the devil to a man of no birth,
barber."

"'Tis all arrange'; have no fear; nobody question monsieur's You goin'
take me to-night--"

"No!"

"Yes. And after--then I have the entree. Is it much I ask? This one
little favor, and I never w'isper, never breathe that--it is to say, I