Having reached the end of the street down which they had been walking, when the conversation already described occurred, they found themselves before the entrance to a small eating-house. One glance was sufficient to show that it was of the foreign order, so derided by Henderson a few moments ago before. They entered and looked about them. The room was long and narrow, and contained some ten or a dozen small tables, three or four of which were already occupied. Pictures of the German school, apparently painted by the yard, and interspersed with gaudy portraits of King Humbert with his mustache, Victor Emmanuel with his wealth of orders, the latter cheek by jowl with Mr. Garibaldi in his felt hat, decorated the walls. The proprietor, a small, tubby individual, with the blackest of black hair and eyes, and an olive skin that glistened like the marble tops of the tables, came forward to welcome them. At his request they seated themselves and gave their orders. “What enjoyment you can find in this sort of thing I can not imagine,” repeated Henderson, almost irritably, as he looked about him. “If you take a pleasure in macaroni and tomato, and find poetry in garlic and _sauer-kraut_, the divine instinct must be even more highly developed in you than your warmest admirers believe. We might have gone to the club and have had a decent meal there.” “And have had to listen to a lot of supercilious young idiots chattering about what they are pleased to call ‘their work,’” the other replied. “No, no, we are better off here. Set your imagination to work, my dear fellow, and try to believe yourself in Florence, with the moonlight streaming down on the Ponte Vecchio; or in Naples, and that you can hear the waves breaking up on the rock under the Castello del Ovo. You might even be listening to _Funiculi-Finicula_ for the first time.” “Confound you! I never know whether you are serious or not,” replied Godfrey. “Is it a joke you’re bringing me here to-night, or have you some definite object in view?” He looked across the table at his companion as if he were anxious to assure himself upon this point before he said anything further. “What if I _had_ an object?” the other answered. “What if I wanted to do you a good turn, and by asking you to come here to-night were able to help you in your work?” “In that case,” Henderson replied, “I should say that it was very kind of you, but that you have chosen a curious way of showing it. How a low Italian restaurant in Soho can help me in the work I have on hand I can not for the life of me understand. Is it possible for you to be more explicit?”