illaume--talked of bribing Captain Dieppe.
Bribery means money; if the object is important it means a large amount
of money: and presumably the object is important and the scale of
expenditure correspondingly liberal, when such a comfortable little
_douceur_ as ten thousand francs is readily promised as the reward of
incidental assistance. Following this train of thought, Paul's mind
fixed itself with some persistency on two points. The first was
modest, reasonable, definite; he would see the colour of Guillaume's
money before the affair went further; he would have his ten thousand
francs, or at least a half of them, before he lent any further aid by
word or deed. But the second idea was larger; it was also vaguer, and,
although it hardly seemed less reasonable or natural to the brain which
conceived it, it could scarcely be said to be as justifiable; at any
rate it did not admit of being avowed as frankly to Guillaume himself.
In fact Paul was wondering how much money Guillaume proposed to pay for
Captain Dieppe's honour (in case that article proved to be in the
market), and, further, where and in what material form that money was.
Would it be gold? Why, hardly; when it comes to thousands of anything,
the coins are not handy to carry about. Would it be a draft? That is
a safe mode of conveying large sums, but it has its disadvantages in
affairs where secrecy is desired and ready money indispensable. Would
it be notes? There were risks here--but also conveniences. And
Guillaume seemed bold as well as wary. Moreover Guillaume's coat was
remarkably shabby, his air very unassuming, and his manner of life at
the hotel frugality itself; such a playing of the _vacuus viator_ might
be meant to deceive not only the landlord of the Aquila Nera, but also
any other predatory persons whom Guillaume should encounter in the
course of his travels. Yes, some of it would be in notes. Paul de
Roustache bade the serving-maid bring him a bottle of wine, and passed
an hour in consuming it very thoughtfully.

Guillaume returned from his conversation with the innkeeper just as the
last glass was poured out. To Paul's annoyance he snatched it up and
drained it--an act of familiarity that reached insolence.

"To the success of our enterprise!" said he, grinning at his
discomfited companion. "All goes well. The innkeeper knows the
Countess's maid, and the note will reach the Countess by midday; I have
described Dieppe to him most