“The secret of youth,” he rejoined, sitting down again, “is enthusiasm, the worship of a woman, and intimate association with cats.” Monsieur Saupiquet received this proposition without a gleam of interest manifesting itself in his dull blue eyes. His broken nose gave his face a singularly unintelligent expression. He poured out another glass of cognac from the graduated carafe in front of him and sipped it slowly. Then he gazed at me dully, almost for the first time, and said: “Madame Brandt owes me fifteen sous.” “And I say that she doesn't!” cried the dwarf fiercely. “I send for him to discuss matters of the deepest gravity, and he comes talking about his fifteen sous. I can't get anything out of him, but his fifteen sous. And the _carissima signora_ doesn't owe it to him. She can't owe it to him. _Voyons_, Saupiquet, if you don't renounce your miserable pretensions you will drive me mad, you will make me burst into tears, you will make me throw you out into the street, and hold you down until you are run over by a tramcar. You will--you will”--he shook his fist passionately as he sought for a climactic menace--“you will make me spit in your eye.” He dashed his fist down on the marble table so that the glasses jingled. Saupiquet finished his cognac undisturbed. “I say that Madame Brandt owes me fifteen sous, and until that is paid, I do no business.” The little man grew white with exasperation, and his upper lip lifted like an angry cat's, showing his teeth. I shrank from meeting Saupiquet's eye. Hurriedly, I drew a providential handful of coppers from my pocket. “Stop, Herr Professor,” said I, eager to prevent the shedding of tears, blood, or saliva, “I have just remembered. Madame did mention to me an unaquitted debt in the South, and begged me to settle it for her. I am delighted to have the opportunity. Will you permit me to act as Madam's banker?” The dwarf at once grew suave and courteous. “The word of _carissima signora_ is the word of God,” said he. I solemnly counted out the fifteen halfpence on the table and pushed them over to Saupiquet, who swept them up and put them in his pocket. “Now we can talk,” said he. “Make him give you a receipt!” cried Papadopoulos excitedly. “I know him! He is capable of any treachery where money is concerned. He is capable of re-demanding the sum from Madame Brandt. He is an ingrate. And she, Monsieur le Membre du Parlement Anglais, has overwhelmed him with benefits. Do you know what she did? She gave him the carcass of her beloved Sultan to dispose of. And he sold it, Monsieur, and he got drunk on the money.” The mingled emotions of sorrow at the demise of Sultan, the royal generosity of Madame Brandt, and the turpitude of his friend Saupiquet, brought tears to the little man's eyes. Monsieur Saupiquet shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly. “A poor man has to get drunk when he can. It is only the rich who can get drunk when they like.” I looked at my watch and rose in a hurry.