detached itself from the man who said: "He's welcome indeed: make
yourself at home, Mr. American"--and bowed himself out. My captor
immediately collapsed on one mattress.

I asked permission to do the same on the other, which favor was sleepily
granted. With half-shut eyes my Ego lay and pondered: the delicious meal
it had just enjoyed; what was to come; the joys of being a great criminal
... then, being not at all inclined to sleep, I read _Le Petit Parisien_
quite through, even to _Les Voies Urinaires._

Which reminded me--and I woke up t-d and asked: "May I visit the
_vespasienne_?"

"Downstairs," he replied fuzzily, and readjusted his slumbers.

There was no one moving about in the little court. I lingered somewhat on
the way upstairs. The stairs were abnormally dirty. When I reentered, t-d
was roaring to himself. I read the journal through again. It must have
been about three o'clock.

Suddenly t-d woke up, straightened and buckled his personality, and
murmured: "It's time, come on."

_Le bureau de_ Monsieur le Ministre was just around the corner, as it
proved. Before the door stood the patient F.I.A.T. I was ceremoniously
informed by t-d that we would wait on the steps.

Well! Did I know any more?--the American driver wanted to know.

Having proved to my own satisfaction that my fingers could still roll a