coloured pipes. Into him restlessness had
passed with the farewell clasp of the foreigner's damp hand. To wait
about in London was unbearable.

He took his hat, and, heedless of direction, walked towards the river.
It was a clear, bright day, with a bleak wind driving showers before it.
During one of such Shelton found himself in Little Blank Street. "I
wonder how that little Frenchman that I saw is getting on!" he thought.
On a fine day he would probably have passed by on the other side; he now
entered and tapped upon the wicket.

No. 3 Little Blank Street had abated nothing of its stone-flagged
dreariness; the same blowsy woman answered his inquiry. Yes, Carolan was
always in; you could never catch him out--seemed afraid to go into the
street! To her call the little Frenchman made his appearance as
punctually as if he had been the rabbit of a conjurer. His face was as
yellow as a guinea.

"Ah! it's you, monsieur!" he said.

"Yes," said Shelton; "and how are you?"

"It 's five days since I came out of hospital," muttered the little
Frenchman, tapping on his chest; "a crisis of this bad atmosphere. I live
here, shut up in a box; it does me harm, being from the South. If there's
anything I can do for you, monsieur, it will give me pleasure."

"Nothing," replied Shelton, "I was just passing, and thought I should
like to hear how you were getting on."

"Come into the kitchen,--monsieur, there is nobody in there. 'Brr! Il
fait un froid etonnant'!"

"What sort of customers have you just now?" asked Shelton, as they
passed into the kitchen.

"Always the same clientele," replied the little man; "not so numerous, of
course, it being summer."

"Could n't you find anything better than this to do?"

The barber's crow's-feet radiated irony.

"When I first came to London," said he, "I secured an engagement at one
of your public institutions. I thought my fortune made. Imagine,
monsieur, in that sacred place I was obliged to shave at the rate of ten
a penny! Here, it's true, they don't pay me half the time; but when I'm
paid, I 'm paid. In this, climate, and being 'poitrinaire', one doesn't
make experiments. I shall finish my days here. Have you seen that young
man who interested you? There 's another! He has spirit, as I had
once--'il fait de la philosophie', as I do--and you will see, monsieur,
it will finish him. In this world what you want is to have no spirit.
Spirit ruins you."

Shelton looke