"Well," continued Fandor, "recently passers-by have fancied they heard
sounds coming from these figures. In fact, they declare that the Naiads
have been singing. A delightfully poetic and thoroughly Parisian idea,
isn't it?"

"Very Parisian indeed."

"The papers have taken it up, and one you probably know by name, _La
Capitale_, has decided to investigate this strange phenomenon."

"What was Conchita asking you just now?"

"Oh, nothing, merely to give her a card for the ceremony."

The conversation continued and turned to other subjects. The stranger
ordered more wine and insisted on Fandor joining him. He seemed to be
particularly interested in the subject of women and the night life of
Paris.

"If only I could persuade him to come with me," thought Fandor. "I'd
show him a stunt or two, and what a scoop it would make ... if it could
be printed! He certainly is drunk, very drunk, and that may help me."

* * * * *

On the Place de la Concorde, deserted at this late hour, two men, arm in
arm, were taking their devious way. They were Fandor and the stranger he
had met at Raxim's.

The journalist, with the aid of an extra bottle, had persuaded his new
friend to finish the night among the cafes of Montmartre. The sudden
change from the overheated restaurant to the cold outside increased the
effects of the alcohol and Fandor realized that he himself was far from
sober. As his companion seemed to be obsessed with the idea of seeing
the Fountains, the journalist piloted him to the Place de la Concorde.

"There you are," he exclaimed, "but you see they're closed. No more
singing to-night. Now come and have a drink."

"Good idea, some more champagne."

Fandor hailed a taxi, and ordered the chauffeur to drive to the Place
Pigalle. As he was shutting the door, he observed an old beggar, who
evidently was afraid to ask for alms. Fandor threw him a coin as the
taxi started.

It was three in the morning, and the Place Pigalle was crowded with
carriages, porters and a constant ebb and flow of all sorts of people.

The journalist and his companion emerged some time later from one of the
best known restaurants, both drunk, especially the stranger, who could
scarcely keep his feet.

"Look here, we must go ... go..."

"Go to bed," interrupted Fandor.

"No. I know where we can go...."

"But we've been everywhere."

"We'll go to my rooms ... to her rooms ... to Susy d'Orsel ... she's