must never explain," he agreed, sagely. "It would undo everything. I
suppose things are easy, after all, when you've set your mind on them--or
get some chap that knows everything to tell you how to do them--and there's
lots of fellows about that know everything--solicitors and so forth.
There's the man who told me about a Registrar. See how easy it was. Where
would you like to go?"

"Anywhere out of England." She shuddered. "Take me to Paris first. We can
go on from there anywhere we like."

"Certainly," said Septimus, and he hailed a hansom.

* * * * *

Thus it fell out that the strangely married pair kept together during the
long months that followed. Emmy's flat in London had been rented furnished.
The maid Edith had vanished, after the manner of many of her kind, into
ancillary space. The theater and all it signified to Emmy became a past
dream. Her inner world was tragical enough, poor child. Her outer world was
Septimus. In Paris, as she shrank from meeting possible acquaintances, he
found her a furnished _appartement_ in the Boulevard Raspail, while he
perched in a little hotel close by. The finding of the _appartement_ was an
illustration of his newly invented, optimistic theory of getting things
done.

He came back to the hotel where he had provisionally lodged her and
informed her of his discovery. She naturally asked him how he had found it.

"A soldier told me," he said.

"A soldier?"

"Yes. He had great baggy red trousers and a sash around his waist and a
short blue jacket braided with red and a fez with a tassel and a shaven
head. He saved me from being run over by a cab."

Emmy shivered. "Oh, don't talk of it in that calm way--suppose you had been
killed!"

"I suppose the Zouave would have buried me--he's such a helpful creature,
you know. He's been in Algiers. He says I ought to go there. His name is
Hegisippe Cruchot."

"But what about the flat?" asked Emmy.

"Oh, you see, I fell down in front of the cab and he dragged me away and
brushed me down with a waiter's napkin--there was a cafe within a yard or
two. And then I asked him to have a drink and gave him a cigarette. He
drank absinthe, without water, and then I began to explain to him an idea
for an invention which occurred to me to prevent people from being run over
by cabs, and he was quite interested. I'll show you--"

"You won't," said Emmy, with a laugh. She had her lighter moments. "You'll
do no s