“Indeed?”

“The second was an Englishman, an eccentric.  We then advertised in the papers, we gave an account of our methods, we invented some attractive instances.  But the great impetus was given by poor people.”

“How do you go to work?”

“Would you like to see?  I can explain at the same time.”

“Yes, indeed.”

He took his hat, opened the door, allowed me to precede him, and we entered a card room, where men sat playing as they, play in all gambling places.  They were chatting cheerfully, eagerly.  I have seldom seen such a jolly, lively, mirthful club.

As I seemed surprised, the secretary said: 

“Oh, the establishment has an unheard of prestige.  All the smart people all over the world belong to it so as to appear as though they held death in scorn.  Then, once they get here, they feel obliged to be cheerful that they may not appear to be afraid.  So they joke and laugh and talk flippantly, they are witty and they become so.  At present it is certainly the most frequented and the most entertaining place in Paris.  The women are even thinking of building an annex for themselves.”

“And, in spite of all this, you have many suicides in the house?”

“As I said, about forty or fifty a day.  Society people are rare, but poor devils abound.  The middle class has also a large contingent.

“And how . . . do they do?”

“They are asphyxiated . . . very slowly.”

“In what manner?”

“A gas of our own invention.  We have the patent.  On the other side of the building are the public entrances—­three little doors opening on small streets.  When a man or a woman present themselves they are interrogated.  Then they are offered assistance, aid, protection.  If a client accepts, inquiries are made; and sometimes we have saved their lives.”

“Where do you get your money?”

“We have a great deal.  There are a large number of shareholders.  Besides it is fashionable to contribute to the establishment.  The names of the donors are published in Figaro.  Then the suicide of every rich man costs a thousand francs.  And they look as if they were lying in state.  It costs the poor nothing.”

“How can you tell who is poor?”

“Oh, oh, monsieur, we can guess!  And, besides, they must bring a certificate of indigency from the commissary of police of their district.  If you knew how distressing it is to see them come in!  I visited their part of our building once only, and I will never go again.  The place itself is almost as good as this part, almost as luxurious and comfortable; but they themselves . . . they themselves!!!  If you could see them arriving, the old men in rags coming to die; persons who have been dying of misery for months, picking up their food at the edges of the curbstone like dogs in the street; women in rags, emaciated, sick, paralyzed, incapable of making a living, who