Have done for years. My office is just close by. You may
know my name--Lewis Mardon."
Peel-Swynnerton hesitated. The hesitation convicted him of not
'knowing his Paris' well.
"House-agent," said Lewis Mardon, quickly.
"Oh yes," said Peel-Swynnerton, vaguely recalling a vision of the
name among the advertisements on newspaper kiosks.
"I expect," Mr. Mardon went on, "my name is as well-known as
anybody's in Paris."
"I suppose so," assented Peel-Swynnerton.
The conversation fell for a few moments.
"Staying here long?" Mr. Mardon demanded, having added up Peel-
Swynnerton as a man of style and of means, and being puzzled by
his presence at that table.
"I don't know," said Peel-Swynnerton.
This was a lie, justified in the utterer's opinion as a repulse to
Mr. Mardon's vulgar inquisitiveness, such inquisitiveness as might
have been expected from a fellow who tucked his serviette under
his chin. Peel-Swynnerton knew exactly how long he would stay. He
would stay until the day after the morrow; he had only about fifty
francs in his pocket. He had been making a fool of himself in
another quarter of Paris, and he had descended to the Pension
Frensham as a place where he could be absolutely sure of spending
not more than twelve francs a day.
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