"Will Your Highness dine in your apartment tonight?" he asked.
The Prince hesitated; then his face relaxed as at some pleasant thought.
"No, Glueck," he said, "I will dine downstairs. Get my bath ready."
CHAPTER IX
Pelletan's Skeleton
As he left the dining-room that evening, Rushford crooked an imperious
finger at Monsieur Pelletan.
"I want a word with you," he said in his ear.
"In private, monsieur?" asked the little Frenchman, with some
trepidation.
"Yes, I think it would better be in private--that is, if you can
accomplish it in this bedlam."
"Oh, I haf a place, monsieur, where no one will intrude," and Pelletan
led the way through the hotel office to a little door back of the desk.
"T'is iss my--vat you call eet in English?--my sty, my kennel--"
"Your den."
"Iss t'ere a difference?" asked Pelletan, fumbling with the lock.
"A sty is for pigs and a kennel for dogs," Rushford explained. "A den
is for wild beasts. These niceties of the English language are not for
you, Pelletan."
"Still," persisted Pelletan, "a man iss no more a wild beast t'an he iss
a dog or a pig."
"Not nearly so much so, very often," agreed Rushford, heartily. "You
have me there, Pelletan. Sty would undoubtedly be the right word in many
cases."
"Fery well, t'en," said Pelletan, proudly, opening the door, "pehold my
sty!" and he stood aside that his companion might enter.
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