steps again, and pulls yet more boxes and parcels from his shelves. And
here at last are the small socks! So I choose a pair, and pay the bill.
And the man bows his thanks, well pleased, it seems, to find that in
thrusting out my fist and raising my foot I had been actuated by no
desire to injure him.'

I was still chuckling over M. Zola's anecdote when M. Desmoulin returned
from his journey to Onslow Square. He had there interviewed a smart boy
in buttons, who had informed him that his learned master was out of town
electioneering, and might not be home again for a week or two. Desmoulin
had, therefore, retained possession of Maitre Labori's note of
introduction.

I now remembered what I ought to have recalled before--namely that Mr.
Fletcher Moulton was at that moment a candidate for the parliamentary
representation of the Launceston division of Cornwall. Under such
circumstances it was unlikely that his advice would be available for some
little time to come. And so all idea of applying to him was abandoned. It
may be that this narrative, should it meet the learned gentleman's eye,
will for the first time acquaint him with what was intended by M. Zola,
acting under Maitre Labori's advice.

M. Zola, I should add, remained most anxious to secure an English legal
opinion on his position, and I therefore suggested to him that I should
that evening consult a discreet and reliable friend of mine, a solicitor.
We, of course, well knew that there could be no extradition, but it was a
point whether a copy of the Versailles judgment might not be legally be
placed in M. Zola's hands, under such conventions as might exist between
France and Great Britain.