his nose, "there's no grand difference between your high Society
and these individuals here; both want pleasure, both think only of
themselves, which is very natural. One lot have had the luck, the
other--well, you see." He shrugged. "A common set! I've been robbed
here half a dozen times. If you have new shoes, a good waistcoat,
an overcoat, you want eyes in the back of your head. And they are
populated! Change your bed, and you'll run all the dangers of not
sleeping alone. 'V'la ma clientele'! The half of them don't pay me!" He,
snapped his yellow sticks of fingers. "A penny for a shave, twopence
a cut! 'Quelle vie'! Here," he continued, standing by a bed, "is a
gentleman who owes me fivepence. Here's one who was a soldier; he's done
for! All brutalised; not one with any courage left! But, believe me,
monsieur," he went on, opening another door, "when you come down to
houses of this sort you must have a vice; it's as necessary as breath is
to the lungs. No matter what, you must have a vice to give you a little
solace--'un peu de soulagement'. Ah, yes! before you judge these swine,
reflect on life! I've been through it. Monsieur, it is not nice never
to know where to get your next meal. Gentlemen who have food in their
stomachs, money in their pockets, and know where to get more, they never
think. Why should they--'pas de danger'! All these cages are the same.
Come down, and you shall see the pantry." He took Shelton through the
kitchen, which seemed the only sitting-room of the establishment, to an
inner room furnished with dirty cups and saucers, plates, and knives.
Another fire was burning there. "We always have hot water," said the
Frenchman, "and three times a week they make a fire down there"--he
pointed to a cellar--"for our clients to boil their vermin. Oh, yes, we
have all the luxuries."

Shelton returned to the kitchen, and directly after took leave of the
little Frenchman, who said, with a kind of moral button-holing, as if