peculative fixity of a rabbit's. His mouth,
small and weak, dribbled away at the corners into the jowls which, in
their turn, melted into two or three chins. He was decently dressed in
grey tweeds, and wore a diamond ring on his little finger.

"Umph!" said he, at last; and went back to the salon.

As soon as the door closed behind him Aristide sprang into an attitude
of indignation.

"Did you ever see such a bear! If I ever saw a bigger one I would eat
him without salt or pepper. _Mais nom d'un chien_, such people ought to
be made into sausages!"

"_Flegme britannique!_" laughed Bocardon.

Half an hour passed, and Mr. Ducksmith made no reappearance from the
salon. In the forlorn hope of a client Aristide went in after him. He
found Mr. Ducksmith, glasses on nose, reading a newspaper, and a plump,
black-haired lady, with an expressionless face, knitting a grey woollen
sock. Why they should be spending their first morning--and a crisp,
sunny morning, too--in Paris in the murky staleness of this awful little
salon, Aristide could not imagine. As he entered, Mr. Ducksmith regarded
him vacantly over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses.

"I have looked in," said Aristide, with his ingratiating smile, "to see
whether you are ready to go to the Madeleine."

"Madeleine?" the lady inquired, softly, pausing in her knitting.

"Madame," Aristide came forward, and, hand on heart, made her the lowest
of bows. "Madame, have I the honour of speaking to Madame Ducksmith?
Enchanted, madame, to make your acquaintance," he continued, after a
grunt from Mr. Ducksmith had assured him of the correctness of his
conjecture. "I am Monsieur Aristide Pujol, director of the Agence Pujol,
and my poor services are absolutely at your disposal."

He drew himself up, twisted his moustache, and met her eyes--they were
rather sad and tired--with the roguish mockery of his own. She turned to
her husband.

"Are you thinking of going to the Madeleine, Bartholomew?"

"I am, Henrietta," said he. "I have decided to do it. And I have also
decided to put ourselves in the charge of this gentleman. Mrs. Ducksmith
and I are accustomed to all the conveniences of travel--I may say that
we are great travellers--and I leave it to you to make the necessary
arrangements. I prefer to travel at so much per head per day."

He spoke in a wheezy, solemn monotone, from which all elements of life
and joy seemed to have been eliminated. His wife's voice, though softer