ined
that it might be extracted from a certain official at the Consulate, if
Garnett could give a sufficiently good reason for the request; and here
in fact Mrs. Newell's emissary learned that her husband was to be found
in an obscure street of the Luxembourg quarter.

In order to be near the scene of action, Garnett went to breakfast at
his usual haunt, determined to despatch his business as early in the
day as politeness allowed. The head waiter welcomed him to a table near
that of the transatlantic sage, who sat in his customary corner, his
head tilted back against the blistered mirror at an angle suggesting
that in a freer civilization his feet would have sought the same level.
He greeted Garnett affably and the two exchanged their usual
generalizations on life till the sage rose to go; whereupon it occurred
to Garnett to accompany him. His friend took the offer in good part,
merely remarking that he was going to the Luxembourg gardens, where it
was his invariable habit, on good days, to feed the sparrows with the
remains of his breakfast roll; and Garnett replied that, as it
happened, his own business lay in the same direction.

"Perhaps, by the way," he added, "you can tell me how to find the rue
Panonceaux where I must go presently. I thought I knew this quarter
fairly well, but I have never heard of it."

His companion came to a sudden halt on the narrow sidewalk, to the
confusion of the dense and desultory traffic which marks the old
streets of the Latin quarter. He fixed his mild eye on Garnett and gave
a twist to the cigar which lingered in the corner of his mouth.

"The rue Panonceaux? It _is_ an out of the way hole, but I can tell you
how to find it," he answered.

He made no motion to do so, however, but continued to bend on the young
man the full force of his interrogative gaze; then he added abruptly:
"Would you mind telling me your object in going there?"

Garnett looked at him with surprise: a question so unblushingly
personal was strangely out of keeping with his friend's usual attitude
of detachment. Before he could reply, however, the other had quietly
continued: "Do you happen to be in search of Samuel C. Newell?"

"Why, yes, I am," said Garnett with a start of conjecture.

His companion uttered a sigh. "I supposed so," he said resignedly; "and
in that case," he added, "we may as well have the matter out in the
Luxembourg."

Garnett had halted before him with deepening astonishment. "But