get some fun out of this thing, after all," he said. "It'll
offer a little diversion, anyway. Now, how shall we begin to advertise?"

"M. le Proprietaire, is he here?" inquired a voice, and Rushford looked
around to see a man in resplendent uniform standing at the door.

"That's me, I reckon," he said.

"This is my first day," explained the man; "I will know monsieur
hereafter. I have a telegram," and he produced it. "Monsieur will make
acknowledgment here," he added, and held out a narrow white slip of
paper.

Rushford signed his name mechanically, dropped a franc into the itching
palm, and waited till the messenger went out. Then he looked at the
address on the envelope. It was:

_Proprietor Grand Hotel Royal, Weet-sur-Mer._

"Well," he said, "it's mine--I guess there's no question of that--I'm
the proprietor--pro tem," and he tore the envelope open. A low whistle
escaped him as he read the message. Then he slapped his leg and laughed.
"It's a freak of the market," he cried. "A freak of the market! And it's
just my luck to be in on the ground floor!"

He folded the telegram and placed it carefully in his pocket. Then he
fell again into a meditation punctuated by frequent chuckles. But at
the end of a very few minutes, Monsieur Pelletan was back again, with a
thin little notary in tow, and the necessary papers were soon drawn up.

"You have only to sign, monsieur," said the notary, after he had
finished reading them aloud, and he handed his formidable pen to
Rushford.

Monsieur Pelletan rubbed his hands together nervously as the American
hesitated and looked at him.

"It's not too late to draw out," remarked Rushford. "If you're not
satisfied--"

"I haf no tesire to traw out, monsieur," protested Pelletan, quickly. "I
am entirely satisfied!"

"I have one other condition to make," added the American.

"What iss eet, monsieur?" questioned Pelletan, looking at him
apprehensively.

"You understand I'm to be a silent partner in this thing."

"A--?"

"A silent partner--in other words, nobody's to know I'm backing you
unless I choose to tell them--absolutely no one. Do you agree?"

"Oh, gladly, monsieur!" cried Pelletan, with a deep breath of relief.
After all, is not glory the next best thing to riches?

"And your friend?"

The notary nodded a solemn promise of secrecy.

"All right," and Rushford signed. Pelletan hastily affixed his
signature, and the thing was done. "Now, my friend," continued the