"Don't tell. Let me guess. He wants to know what sort of a rake-off he
and the other somnambulists will get--the darned old pirate! Is that
it?"

Mr. Crump said that that was just it.

"That'll be all right," said Mr. Scobell. "Old man Blong's offer to the
Prince of Monaco was five hundred thousand francs a year--that's
somewhere around a hundred thousand dollars in real money--and half the
profits made by the Casino. That's my offer, too. See how that hits
him, Crump."

Mr. Crump investigated.

"He says he accepts gladly, on behalf of the Republic, sir," he
announced.

M. d'Orby confirmed the statement by rising, dodging the cigar, and
kissing Mr. Scobell on both cheeks.

"Cut it out," said the financier austerely, breaking out of the clinch.
"We'll take the Apache Dance as read. Good-by, Squire. Glad it's
settled. Now I can get busy."

He did. Workmen poured into Mervo, and in a very short time, dominating
the town and reducing to insignificance the palace of the late Prince,
once a passably imposing mansion, there rose beside the harbor a
mammoth Casino of shining stone.