itted debt in the South, and begged me to settle it for her. I am
delighted to have the opportunity. Will you permit me to act as Madam's
banker?"

The dwarf at once grew suave and courteous.

"The word of _carissima signora_ is the word of God," said he.

I solemnly counted out the fifteen halfpence on the table and pushed
them over to Saupiquet, who swept them up and put them in his pocket.

"Now we can talk," said he.

"Make him give you a receipt!" cried Papadopoulos excitedly. "I know
him! He is capable of any treachery where money is concerned. He is
capable of re-demanding the sum from Madame Brandt. He is an ingrate.
And she, Monsieur le Membre du Parlement Anglais, has overwhelmed him
with benefits. Do you know what she did? She gave him the carcass of her
beloved Sultan to dispose of. And he sold it, Monsieur, and he got drunk
on the money."

The mingled emotions of sorrow at the demise of Sultan, the royal
generosity of Madame Brandt, and the turpitude of his friend Saupiquet,
brought tears to the little man's eyes. Monsieur Saupiquet shrugged his
shoulders unconcernedly.

"A poor man has to get drunk when he can. It is only the rich who can
get drunk when they like."

I looked at my watch and rose in a hurry.

"I'm afraid I must take an unceremonious leave of you, Monsieur le
Professeur."

"You must wait for the receipt," cried the dwarf.

"Will you do me the honour of holding it for me until we meet again?
Hi!" The interpellation was addressed to a cabman a few yards away.
"Your conversation has made me neglect the flight of time. I shall only
just catch my boat."

"Your boat?"

"I am going to Algiers."

"Where will you be staying, Monsieur? I ask in no spirit of vulgar
curiosity."

I raised a protesting hand, and with a smile named my hotel.

"I arrived here from Algiers yesterday afternoon," he said, "and I
proceed there again to-morrow."

"I regret," said I, "that you are not coming to-day, so that I could
have the pleasure of your company on the voyage."

My polite formula seemed to delight Professor Anastasius Papadopoulos
enormously. He made a series of the most complicated bows, to the joy
of the waiters and the passers-by. I shook hands with him and with
the stolid Monsieur Saupiquet, and waving my hat more like an excited
Montenegrin than the most respectable of British valetudinarians, I
drove off to the Quai de la Joliette, where I found an anxious but
dogged Rogers, in t