In a word, Belon, with all his knowledge of Paris, overestimated the credulity of the Parisians, and was brought face to face with that unimaginative, relentless personage, the Commissaire de Police. Happier had been Madame Belon in the steamy days of the _blanchisserie_; happier had been Belon when he surveyed his shabby form in the café mirror, saying: “Times will change.” In the Belon _ménage_, not only a constant dread of M. le Commissaire de Police, but bitter, domestic quarrels, even infidelities. But the quarrels were “made up,” the infidelities were pardoned—for, as the troubles thickened, as the situation grew increasingly alarming, so did the Belons become drawn closely together; so did they display many, yes, admirable, yes—even heroic qualities. And when at last the “crisis” arrived, and when the practical, amiable, retired _blanchisseuse_ saved her husband from a disgraceful fate, it was the good heart and good humour that had lived through, and survived, these difficulties which made the point—the very un-English moral—of the story! Thus, after discussing their short, stormy married career in every detail, and with the utmost candour, the Belons agreed that no great harm had been done, since they were better friends than ever! But Paris had become distasteful to them; what a blithe, refreshing change, then, to take up their abode in a quiet villa on the outskirts of the city! A little villa with a porch! A little villa with a garden! A little villa where one would be entirely _chez soi_. “We will plant cabbages,” cried Madame Belon enthusiastically. “We will be happy,” responded Belon, with emotion. So, another and a final change of scene. Behold—as a last tableau—the Belons installed tranquilly, comfortably and affectionately on the outskirts of Paris in a neat, innocent little villa. Thus, very briefly, the story of _Qui Perd Gagne_. The author, I need scarcely say, was M. Alfred Capus; for who but that inimitable dramatist would have discovered good-heartedness and good humour as underlying qualities in such shady people as the Belons; and who but that genius at clearing up awkward, anxious situations could have got the retired _blanchisseuse_ and her husband so generously and unexpectedly out of their moral, as well as their practical, scrapes?