t think
the chance should be lost, even if it is a poor one. Besides, I'm doing
no good here, and I can do no harm there."

This was undeniably true; and though Barton muttered something about "a
false scent," he no longer attempted to turn Maitland from his purpose.
He did, however, with some difficulty, prevent the Fellow of St.
Gatien's from purchasing a blonde beard, one of those wigs which
simulate baldness, and a pair of blue spectacles. In these disguises,
Maitland argued, he would certainly avoid recognition, and so discomfit
any mischief planned by the enemies of Margaret.

"Yes; but, on the other hand, you would look exactly like a German
professor, and probably be taken for a spy of Bismarck's," said Barton.

And Maitland reluctantly gave up the idea of disguise. He retained,
however, certain astute notions of his own about his plan of operations,
and these, unfortunately, he did not communicate to his friend. The
fact is, that the long dormant romance of Maitland's character was now
thoroughly awake, and he began, unconsciously, to enjoy the adventure.

His enjoyment did not last very long. The usual troubles of a winter
voyage, acting on a dilapidated digestive system, were not spared the
guardian of Margaret But everything---even a period of waiting at
the Paris _salle d'attente_, and a struggle with the _cochers_ at the
station (who, for some reason, always decline to take a fare)--must come
to an end at last. About dinner-time, Maitland was jolted through the
glare of the Parisian streets, to the Avenue de l'Opera. At the
Hotel Alsace et Lorraine he determined not to betray himself by too
precipitate eagerness. In the first place, he wrote an assumed name in
the hotel book, choosing, by an unlucky inspiration, the pseudonym
of Buchanan. He then ordered dinner in the hotel, and, by way of
propitiation, it was a much better dinner than usual that Maitland
ordered. Bottles of the higher Bordeaux wines, reposing in beautiful
baskets, were brought at his command; for he was determined favorably to
impress the people of the house.

His conduct in this matter was partly determined by the fact that, for
the moment, the English were not popular in Paris.

In fact, as the French newspapers declared, with more truth than they
suspected, "Paris was not the place for English people, especially for
English women."

In these international circumstances, then, Maitland believed he showed
the wisdom of the serpen