"I don't know! 'On my soul, I don't know!"

"Would you not beat your life out against a cage?"

"I wonder that too! I'd like to think I would, but--"

"You imagine you would hesitate? You think you would shrink?"

"I don't know! Human nature is so damnably patient. Come along! here's
the place we're looking for." He drew the boy across the road to the
doorway of a little _café_, over the door of which hung the somewhat
pretentious sign Maison Gustav.

The Maison Gustav was scarcely a more appetizing place than the Hôtel
Railleux. One-half of its interior was partitioned off and filled with
long tables, at which, earlier in the day, workmen were served with
_déjeuner_, while the other and smaller portion, reserved for more
fastidious guests, was fitted with a counter, ranged with fruit and
cakes, and with half a dozen round marble-topped tables, provided with
chairs.

This more refined portion of the _café_ was empty of customers as the
two entered. With the ease and decision of an _habitué_, the Irishman
chose the table nearest to the counter, and presently a woman appeared
from some inner region, and, approaching her customers, eyed them with
that mixture of shrewd observation and polite welcome that belongs to
the Frenchwoman who follows the ways of commerce.

"Good-day, messieurs!" She inclined her head to one side like a plump
and speculative bird, and her hands began mechanically to smooth her