He made his way safely to Havre, and got over all right with the exception of being fearfully sea-sick on the passage. Oh! the blessing of being thin! Fat men suffer the tortures of the direst days of the Inquisition when attacked by the fell _mal du mer_! while the Misters Slenders escaped scatheless. He had some little difficulty with the gendarmes of the custom house and the hotel touts, the latter of whom struggled for the possession of his manly form; but he finally escaped after being taken summarily to a caravanserai, where he left his luggage, and shortly afterwards set about finding the abode of Susan and Markworth. By some mistake or other he got carried off to the railway station, and was taken some miles on the road to Paris. A fellow countryman, however, convinced him of his mistake, and showed him how to get back again to Havre. By the time he got back, however, evening had set in, and he experienced the greatest difficulty in finding the direction of the Rue Montmartre, for, even after finding the direction in which it lay, he was still at fault. How he blessed the "frog eating race" as he called them. As the doctor's knowledge of French was somewhat limited,--indeed, he only knew the word _oui_ which he pronounced "Ooo"--he found some difficulty in finding his way. However, by dint of continually bawling out in an extra stentorian voice "Roo Mount Martha," as he called it, to every passer-by whom he met, he at length reached the street of which he was in search. It was some time before he got to the right number, as he would persist in asking, of course in English, for "Number-o'-seven," instead of _numero sept_. But in due course he arrived at the _logement_ of La Mere Cliquelle. The door was opened by the husband of that good lady--it is curious how some men lose their individuality on getting married; they become mere nonentities--how often you hear a man described as Mrs So-and-So's husband. The doctor, thinking that by speaking his words very distinctly, and in a loud tone of voice, he could make any Frenchman understand English, acted on that plan. "Is--Susan? Bless my soul! What the dooce am I thinking of?" interrupted the doctor to himself. He commenced anew. "Is--Missis-- Mark--worth--in?" "Hein?" grunted the Frenchman, interrogatively. The doctor repeated his question, only this time asking for "madam" instead of "mistress." The Gaul's face brightened, and he looked more intelligent. "Ah-h! Yase! yase, yase, yase!" he said, nodding his head violently, "de madame? de Inglismans, hay?" "Yes, yes! quite right," ejaculated the doctor. "I say you are quite right," bawling out the words at the top of his voice. "Confound these stupid French frogs," he muttered to himself; "why, they can't understand plain English! Is--she--you--know--who in?" And seeing that the Gaul liked to nod, he nodded his head until he grew quite apoplectic in the face.