well! I shall seek out this Princess when she is with herself!
Alone, comprenez? I shall seek her at her hotel in the Egyptian
Hall! Ha! ha! I shall seek Zut-Ski! Zut!" And he made that
rapid yet graceful motion of his palm against his thigh known only
to the true Parisian.

"It's a rum hole where she lives, and nobody gets a sight of her,"
said Flossy. "It's like a beastly family vault, don't you know,
outside, and there's a kind of nigger doorkeeper that vises you and
chucks you out if you haven't the straight tip. I'll show you the
way, if you like."

"Allons, en avant!" said the Chevalier gayly. "I precipitate
myself there on the instant."

"Remember!" hissed McFeckless, grasping his arm, "you shall account
to me!"

"Bien!" said the Chevalier, shaking him off lightly. "All a-r-r-
right." Then, in that incomparable baritone, which had so often
enthralled thousands, he moved away, trolling the first verse of
the Princess's own faint, sweet, sad song of the "Lotus Lily," that
thrilled McFeckless even through the Chevalier's marked French
accent:--


"Oh, a hard zing to get is ze Lotus Lillee!
She lif in ze swamp--in ze watair chillee;
She make your foot wet--and you look so sillee,
But you buy her for sixpence in Piccadillee!"