topsy-turvy, slit it neatly and suddenly from stem to stem with a
jack-knife, banged the hay about, and then went with careful haste
through the pitifully minute baggage of the _paillasse's_ owner. Silence
fell. No one, least of all the owner, said anything. From this bed The
Clever Man turned to the next, treated it in the same fashion, searched
it thoroughly, and made for the third. His motions were those of a
perfectly oiled machine. He proceeded up the length of the room, varying
his procedure only by sparing an occasional mattress, throwing
_paillasses_ about, tumbling _sacs_ and boxes inside out; his face
somewhat paler than usual but otherwise immaculate and expressionless. B.
and I waited with some interest to see what would happen to our
belongings. Arriving at our beds he paused, seemed to consider a moment,
then, not touching our _paillasses_ proper, proceeded to open our duffle
bags and hunt half-heartedly, remarking that "somebody might have put it
in;" and so passed on. "What in hell is the matter with that guy?" I
asked of Fritz, who stood near us with a careless air, some scorn and
considerable amusement in his eyes. "The bloody fool's lost his knife,"
was Fritz's answer. After completing his rounds The Clever Man searched
almost everyone except ourselves and Fritz, and absolutely subsided on
his own _paillasse_ muttering occasionally "if he found it" what he'd do.
I think he never did find it. It was a "beautiful" knife, John the
Baigneur said. "What did it look like?" I demanded with some curiosity.
"It had a naked woman on the handle" Fritz said, his eyes sharp with
amusement.

And everyone agreed that it was a great pity that The Clever Man had lost
it, and everyone began timidly to restore order and put his personal
belongings back in place and say nothing at all.

But what amused me was to see the little tot in a bluish-grey French