And this is what you will find when you get there. A little restaurant with a chocolate face and with a plate-glass window, on which the fact is announced that it is an _à la carte_ establishment. Two little trees are in front of the window--little evergreen trees are fashionable just now in Soho--and the name "Gustave" is well in evidence above, with an electric lamp to throw light upon it. Inside the window a long lawn curtain gives privacy to the restaurant. The card of the day, with half-a-hundred names of dishes written in black ink, hangs in a brass frame by the door. Go inside, and you find yourself in a little room--a French gentleman who went on my recommendation to Gustave's described it to me afterwards as a _boîte_--with cream-coloured walls and a chocolate skirting. A counter, to which the waiters go to fetch the dishes, with a girl behind it very busily engaged, is at one side of the room. Oilcloth is on the floor, and a little staircase leads to the first floor. Eleven tables are in this room, all of them generally occupied, mostly by French people; but there is a second smaller room on beyond, which holds four tables, and on the two occasions lately that I have dined at Gustave's I have found one of these tables vacant. Everything is very clean at Gustave's, and if the napery is thin and the glass is thick, that is quite in keeping with the travel story. The people at the other tables are probably French. They belong to the respectable classes, and they behave just as well as though they carried innumerable quarterings on their escutcheons. A young waiter puts the _carte du jour_, with an ornamental blue border, on the table in front of you, and Monsieur Gustave, who, napkin on arm, bustles about his little restaurant, comes to give advice, if needed, as to a choice of dishes. Gustave--who must not, of course, be confused with that other Gustave who was manager of the Savoy, and who is now at the Lotus Club--is a little Frenchman, with a moustache, who is very wide awake. He has a sense of humour, and he talks excellent English. He was for a time at an hotel in Hatton Garden, and at the Restaurant des Gourmets before he came to Greek Street. The first item on a bill of fare that I took away, with me reads: "½ doz. Escargots, 8d.," but long ago, at Prunier's in Paris, I tried to attune my palate to snails, and failed, so on this particular night I did not even consider their inclusion in my dinner. Nor did I dally with _hors d'œuvre_, though I might have had sardines, or _filets de hareng_, or _anchois_, or _salmis_ for twopence. But I ordered soup, and I think I went up in Gustave's opinion when I preferred three-pennyworth of _soupe à l'oignon_ to _pot au feu_ at the same price. There were three fish dishes on the card, _moules Marinières_, 6d.; _merlan frit_, 6d.; _sole frit_, 10d.; and Gustave recommended the _moules_ as being a dish of the house, and having come in that morning.