"First," he added, "there come the pawnshop, the exterior boulevards, the somewhat insufficient shelter of the Pont Royal. No, you have not come to the last corner." "All that," said Cazeby, "is simply a matter of philosophy. Each of us has his own idea of what makes life worth the while. When that is no longer procurable, then that is the last corner." "For instance--?" "For instance, my own case. You have analyzed my situation sufficiently well--though when you said I was about to blow out my brains"-- "It was a mere guess," interrupted Bibi, "founded on circumstantial evidence. Then I _thought_ so. Now I _know_ it." "Let us grant you are right," continued Cazeby, with a smile. "I have my own conception of what I require to make existence tolerable. It includes this apartment, or its equivalent, a horse, two servants, two clubs, and a sufficient income to dress, eat, entertain, and amuse myself in the manner of my class,--an extravagant and unreasonable standard, if you will, but such is my conviction. Now, granted that the moment has come when it is no longer possible for me to have these things, and when there is no prospect of my situation being bettered, I cannot conceive what advantage there can be in continuing to live." "I perceive you are a philosopher," said the other. "How about the religious view?" Cazeby shrugged his shoulders. "As to that," he said, "my religious views are, so far as I know, stored away in the little church which I was forced to attend three times on every Sunday of my boyhood. They did not come out with me on the last occasion, and I have never met them since." "Excellent!" said Bibi. "It is the same with me. But I think you are mistaken in your conviction of what makes life worth living. I had my own delusions in the time. But I have had a deal of schooling since then. There are many things as amusing as luxury--even on the exterior boulevards. Of course, actual experience is essential. One never knows what one would do under given conditions." He turned suddenly, and looked Cazeby in the eye. "What, for example, would you do if you were in my place?" he asked. "As you say, one never knows," said his host. "I _think_ that, in your place, I should improve the opportunity you find open, and carry out your late and laudable intention of robbing Monsieur Antoine Cazeby. I may be influenced by my knowledge that such a proceeding would not irritate or incommode him in the least, but that is what I think I should do. "I shall not need these things to-morrow," he added, indicating his surroundings with a gesture. "You were quite right about the pistol. As to your prospective booty, I regret to say that I spent my last sixty centimes on our cognac, but there is a remarkably fine scarf-pin on the table in my dressing-room." "A sapphire, surrounded by black pearls," put in the other. "You were rather long in cooking those eggs."