All the apology in Louis' tone was wasted. It troubled me not in the
least that my companion should be a _maitre d'hotel_. I did not
hesitate for a second.

"I'll come with pleasure, Louis," I said, "on condition that I am
host. It is very good of you to take pity upon me. We will take this
taximeter, shall we?"

Louis bowed. Once more I fancied that there was something in his face
which I did not altogether understand.

"It is an honor, monsieur," he said. "We will start, then, with the
Abbaye."




CHAPTER II

A CAFE IN PARIS


The Paris taximeters are good, and our progress was rapid. We passed
through the crowded streets, where the women spread themselves out
like beautiful butterflies, where the electric lights were deadened by
the brilliance of the moon, where men, bent double over the handles of
their bicycles, shot hither and thither with great paper lanterns
alight in front of them. We passed into the quieter streets, though
even here the wayfarers whom we met were obviously bent on pleasure,
up the hill, till at last we pulled up at one of the best-known