as here before,' she said, 'I was at a table just upstairs to
the right. Have you one there, Monsieur Beauchamp?'

_Nom d'une pipe_! She knew him. And she was beautiful, this English
lady. As he personally escorted them upstairs, with the importance of
a Lord Chamberlain at a Court function, Monsieur Beauchamp speculated
on the flirtatious potentialities of the young woman. If she were only
clever enough to be fickle, what a source of profit she might be to the
Cafe Rouge! And was she not in appearance much like Mademoiselle
Valerie, for whom a member of the Chamber of Deputies had blown out the
brains of Monsieur P---- de l'Academie Francaise?

With the assistance of a waiter, he ushered them to a table almost
hidden by a pillar, where a crimson-shaded light sent a soft glow that
was guaranteed to make the most of a woman's eyes. Monsieur Beauchamp
with his own hands brought them the menu card, while the waiter stood
expectantly, crouched for an immediate start as soon as he received the
signal. A small waitress appeared with the butter and rolls, and made
her way underneath the arms of the proprietor and the waiter like a tug
running round two ocean liners. Monsieur Beauchamp could recommend the
_Barquettes Norvegienne_--No? Madame did not so desire? Of course
not. He frowned terrifically at the waiter, who glared ferociously at
the diminutive waitress. _Morbleu_! What imbecile suggested
_Barquettes Norvegienne_? Monsieur Beauchamp mentioned other dishes as
an overture to the meal, waxing increasingly wrathy towards the waiter
on each veto. Ah! monsieur desired _Consomme Anton_. The proprietor's
face beamed and his arms were outstretched towards heaven. That this
gentleman should order _Consomme Anton_, the soup of which he alone
knew the secret, and which had been named after himself! Truly, the
life of a restaurateur was not without compensations. He turned on the
waiter--but that worthy had darted away to execute the order.

III.

The soup appeared. Monsieur Beauchamp stood by with the attitude of an
artist watching the hanging of his first painting in the Academy.

'You might let me see the wine list,' said Selwyn.

Monsieur Beauchamp struck an attitude of horror. Had it come to this
in the Cafe Rouge, that a patron must _ask_ for the wine list?
Brandishing his arms, he rushed from the table, almost colliding with
the little waitress, flew downstairs to the very farthest table near
th