days thereafter) might well be entitled "Love will find a way." Just how
the door was opened, the lock picked, etc., from the inside is (of
course) a considerable mystery to anyone possessing a limited
acquaintance with the art of burglary. Anyway it was accomplished, and
that in several fifths of a second. Now let the curtain fall, and the
reader be satisfied with the significant word "Asbestos," which is part
of all first-rate performances.

The Surveillant, I fear, distrusted his _balayeur_. _Balayeurs_ were
always being changed because _balayeurs_ were (in shameful contrast to
the _plantons_) invariably human beings. For this deplorable reason they
inevitably carried notes to and fro between _les hommes_ and _les
femmes_. Upon which ground the _balayeur_ in this case--a well-knit
keen-eyed agile man, with a sense of humour and sharp perception of men,
women and things in particular and in general--was called before the bar
of an impromptu court, held by M. le Surveillant in The Enormous Room
after the promenade. I shall not enter in detail into the nature of the
charges pressed in certain cases, but confine myself to quoting the close
of a peroration which would have done Demosthenes credit:

"_Meme le balayeur a tire un coup!_"

The individual in question mildly deprecated M. le Surveillant's opinion,
while the audience roared and rocked with laughter of a somewhat
ferocious sort. I have rarely seen the Surveillant so pleased with
himself as after producing this _bon mot_. Only fear of his superior, the
ogre-like Directeur, kept him from letting off entirely all concerned in
what after all (from the European point of view) was an essentially human
proceeding. As nobody could prove anything about Meme, he was not locked
up in a dungeon; but he lost his job of sweeper--which was quite as bad,