ome more Americans. Each time the
boss would gather up the lobster and personally introduce him to the
newcomers, just as he had done in our case, by poking the monster
under their noses and making him wriggle to show that he was really
alive and not operated by clockwork, and enthusiastically dilating
upon his superior attractions, which, he assured them, would be
enormously enhanced if only _messieurs_ would agree forthwith to
partake of him in a broiled state. But there were no takers; and so
back again he would go to his place by the door, there to remain till
the next prospective victim arrived.

We fell into the habit of going to this place in the evenings in order
to enjoy repetitions of this performance while dining. The lobster
became to us as an old friend, a familiar acquaintance. We took to
calling him Jess Willard, partly on account of his reach and partly on
account of his rugged appearance, but most of all because his manager
appeared to have so much trouble in getting him matched with anybody.

[Illustration: HALF A DOZEN TIMES A NIGHT OR OFTENER HE TRAVELLED
UNDER ESCORT THROUGH THE DINING ROOM]

Half a dozen times a night, or oftener, he travelled under escort
through the dining room, always returning again to his regular
station. Along about the middle of the week he began to fail visibly.
Before our eyes we saw him fading. Either the artificial life he was
leading or the strain of being turned down so often was telling upon
him. It preyed upon his mind, as we could discern by his morose
expression. It sapped his splendid vitality as well. No longer did he
expand his chest and wave his numerous extremities about when being
exhibited before the indifferent eyes of possible investors, but
remained inert, logy, gloomy, spiritless--a melancholy spectacle
indeed.

It now required artificial stimulation to induce him to display even a
temporary interest in his surroundings. With a practised finger, his
keeper would thump him on the tenderer portions of his stomach, and
then he would wake up; but it was only for a moment. He relapsed again
into his lamentable state of depression and languor. By every outward
sign here was a lobster that fain would withdraw from the world. But
we knew that for him there was no opportunity to do so; on the hoof he
represented too many precious francs to be allowed to go into
retirement.

Coming on Saturday night we realised that for our old friend the end
was nigh. His