“Jesuits,” he muttered.
“Well,” said Hastings wearily, “I imagine we won’t find anything better. You say yourself that vice is triumphant in Paris, and it seems to me that in every street we find Jesuits or something worse.”
After amoment he repeated, “Or something worse, which of course I would not notice except for your kindness in warning me.”
Dr. Byram sucked in his lips and looked about him. He was impressed by the evident respectability of the surroundings, Then, frowning at the Convent he took Hastings’ arm and shuffled across the street to an iron gateway which bore the number 201 bis painted in white on a blue ground. Below this was a notice printed in English:
1. For Porter please oppress once.
2. For Servant please oppress twice.
3. For Parlor please oppress thrice.
Hastings touched the electric button three times and they were ushered through the garden and into the parlor by a trim maid. The dining-room door, just beyond, was open, and from the table in plain view, a stout woman hastily arose and came toward them. Hastings caught a glimpse of a young man with a big head and several snuffy old gentlemen at breakfast, before the door closed and the stout woman waddled into the room, bringing with her an aroma of coffee and a black poodle.
“It ees a plaisir to you receive!” she cried; “Monsieur is Anglish? No? Americain? Off course. My pension it ees for Americains surtout. Here all spik Angleesh, c’est à dire, ze personelle; ze sairvants do spik, plus ou
