could, with a wave of his wand, convert a uniformed Légionnaire into a most convincing civilian. Further, that he was known to be wholly reliable and incorruptibly honest in his dealings with those who could afford to be his god-sons.
All of which was perfectly true.
(Monsieur Mendoza did not display a gilt-lettered board upon the wall of his house, bearing any such inscription as "Haroun Mendoza, Desertion Agent. Costumier to Poumpistes and All who make the Promenade. Desertions arranged with promptitude and despatch. Perfect Disguises a Speciality. Foreign Money Changed. Healthy Itineraries mapped out. Second-hand Uniforms disposed of. H.M.'s Agents and Interpreters meet All Trains at Oran; and Best Berths secured on all Steamers. Convincing Labelled Luggage Supplied. Special Terms for Parties .…" nor advertise in the Echo d'Oran, for it would have been as unnecessary as unwise.…)
All very well and all very interesting, parried Monsieur Mendoza, but while compliments garlic no caldo, shekels undoubtedly make the mule to go. Had le bon Légionnaire shekels?
No, he had not, but they would very shortly arrive.
"And how many shekels will arrive?" enquired the good Monsieur Mendoza.
"Sufficient unto the purpose," was the answer, and then the bargaining began. For the sum of fifty francs the Jew would provide one Legionary with a satisfactory suit of clothes. The hat, boots, linen and tie consistent with each particular suit would cost from thirty to forty francs extra.… Say, roughly, a hundred francs for food and complete outfit, per
