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If so, he
was happy, as were the simple souls who flouted; and this reflection
kept my mind serene.
Presently we turned into a wide and less poverty-stricken street, which
I felt sure we could have reached by a less tortuous and malodorous
path. A few yards down we came to a dark _porte cochere_. The dwarf
halted, crossed, so as to read the number by the gas lamp, and joining
me, said:
"It is here. Have you your visiting-cards ready?"
I nodded. We proceeded down the dark entry till we came to a slovenly,
ill-kept glass box lit by a small gas jet, whence emerged a slovenly,
ill-kept man. This was the concierge. Anastasius addressed a remark to
him which I did not catch.
"_Au fond de la cour, troisieme a gauche_," said the concierge.
As yet there seemed to be nothing peculiarly perilous about the
adventure. We crossed the cobble-paved courtyard and mounted an
evil-smelling stone staircase, blackened here and there by the
occasional gas jets. On the third landing we halted. Anastasius put up
his hand and gripped mine.


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