THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
“’Tis as plain as a pike-handle,” said Cornbury. And as Mornay still scanned the document: “Faith, can ye not see?—ye’re a guest upon a vessel of your own. The vessel and all she owns is yours, man—yours!”
“Parbleu!” said Mornay, when the edge of his wonderment was dulled. “I believe you. A rare investment, indeed, for the millions of the Bresacs.”
“A thousand per centum at the very least, with a modicum for the King. Ye cannot wonder how Charles bewailed the man’s demise. Ye touched his purse, René. And friendship has little to expect from the conscience of an empty pocket.”
“By my life, it is so!” said the wide-eyed Mornay. “Jacquard shall know. Listen, my friend.” And, with a particular reticence with regard to the name of Mistress Clerke, he told
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