"One hour to find the Comte de Guiche."
"Go on."
"And an hour to persuade him to write a letter to Monsieur."
"Just so."
"Sixteen hours in all?"
"You reckon as well as Monsieur Colbert."
"It is now twelve o'clock."
"Half-past."
"Hein! you have a handsome watch."
"What were you saying?" said Malicorne, putting his watch quickly back into his fob.
"Ah! true; I was offering to lay you twenty pistoles against these you have lent me that you will have the Comte de Guiche's letter in"
"How soon?"
"In eight hours."
"Have you a winged horse, then?"
"That is no matter. Will you lay?"
"I shall have the comte's letter in eight hours?"
"Yes."
"In hand?"
"In hand."
"Well, be it so; I lay," said Malicorne, curious to know how this seller of clothes would get through.
"Is it agreed?"
"It is."
"Pass me the pen, ink, and paper."
"Here they are."
"Thank you."
Manicamp raised himself up with a sigh, and leaning on his left elbow, he, in his best hand, traced the following lines:
"An order for a place of maid of honor to madame, which Monsieur le Comte de Guiche will take upon him to obtain at sight. De Manicamp."
This painful task accomplished, he laid himself down in bed again.
"Well?" asked Malicorne, "what does this mean?"
"That means that if you are in a hurry to have the letter from the Comte de Guiche for Monsieur, I have won my wager."
"How the devil is that?"
