topped.

"Monsieur, if it is absolutely necessary that you see the
_appartement_--"

"It is. Absolutely necessary." Max ran back.

"Then, monsieur, I will conduct you up-stairs."

The suggestion was greedily seized upon. This _appartement_ on the fifth
floor had grown in value with each moment of denial.

"Thank you, madame, a thousand times!"

"Shall we mount?"

"On the moment, if you will."

Through the glass door they went, and up the stairs, mounting higher and
ever higher in an unbroken silence. Half way up each flight of stairs
there was a window through which the light fell upon the bare oak steps,
proving them to be spotless and polished as the floor of a convent. It
was an unexpected quality, this rigid cleanliness, and the boy
acknowledged it with a mute and deep satisfaction.

Upon each landing were two doors--closed doors that sturdily guarded
whatever of secrecy might lie behind, and at each of these silent
portals Max glanced with that intent and searching look that one bestows
upon objects that promise to become intertwined with one's daily life.
At last the ascent was made, the goal reached, and he paused on the last
step of the stairs to survey the coveted fifth floor.

It was as bare, as scrupulously clean as were the other landings; but
his quick glance noted that while the door upon the left was plain and
unadorned as the others he had passed, that upon the right bore a small
brass plate engraved with the name 'L. Salas.'

This, then, was his possible neighbor! He scanned the name attentively.

"This is the fifth floor, madame?"

"The fifth floor, monsieur!" Without ceremony the little woman went
forward and, to his astonishment, rapped sharply upon the door with the
brass plate.

Max started. "Madame! The _appartement_ is not occupied?"

The only reply that came to him was the opening of the door by an inch
or two and the hissing whisper of a conversation of which he caught no
word. Then the lady of the scissors looked round upon him, and the door
closed.

"One moment, monsieur, while madame throws on a garment!"

A sudden loss of nerve, a sudden desire for flight seized upon Max. He
had mounted the stairs anticipating the viewing of empty rooms, and now
he was confronted with a furnished and inhabited _appartement_, and
commanded to wait 'while madame threw on a garment'! A hundred
speculations crowded to his mind. Into what _milieu_ was he about to be
hurled? What sordid morn