air was heavy with the combined smells of many dinners, and noisy with
the clatter of many tongues. Behind the fruits, cigars, and liqueur
bottles that decorated the _comptoir_ sat a plump, black-eyed little
woman in a gorgeous cap and a red silk dress. This lady welcomed us with
a bewitching smile and a gracious inclination of the head.

"_Ces messieurs_," she said, "will find a vacant table yonder, by the
window."

Müller bowed majestically.

"Madame," he said, "I wish to see Monsieur le propriétaire."

The dame de comptoir looked very uneasy.

"If Monsieur has any complaint to make," she said, "he can make it to
me."

"Madame, I have none."

"Or if it has reference to the ordering of a dinner...."

Müller smiled loftily.

"Dinner, Madame," he said, with a disdainful gesture, "is but one of the
accidents common to humanity. A trifle! A trifle always
humiliating--sometimes inconvenient--occasionally impossible. No,
Madame, mine is a serious mission; a mission of the highest importance,
both socially and commercially. May I beg that you will have the
goodness to place my card in the hands of Monsieur le propriétaire, and