“How do I live when I am on the tramp?” he said, “well, there are the consuls.  The system is not delicate, but when it’s a question of starving, much is permissible; besides, these gentlemen were created for the purpose.  There’s a coterie of German Jews in Paris living entirely upon consuls.”  He hesitated for the fraction of a second, and resumed:  “Yes, monsieur; if you have papers that fit you, you can try six or seven consuls in a single town.  You must know a language or two; but most of these gentlemen are not too well up in the tongues of the country they represent.  Obtaining money under false pretences?  Well, it is.  But what’s the difference at bottom between all this honourable crowd of directors, fashionable physicians, employers of labour, ferry-builders, military men, country priests, and consuls themselves perhaps, who take money and give no value for it, and poor devils who do the same at far greater risk?  Necessity makes the law.  If those gentlemen were in my position, do you think that they would hesitate?”

Shelton’s face remaining doubtful, Ferrand went on instantly:  “You’re right; they would, from fear, not principle.  One must be hard pressed before committing these indelicacies.  Look deep enough, and you will see what indelicate things are daily done by the respectable for not half so good a reason as the want of meals.”

Shelton also took a cigarette—­his own income was derived from property for which he gave no value in labour.

“I can give you an instance,” said Ferrand, “of what can be done by resolution.  One day in a German town, ‘etant dans la misere’, I decided to try the French consul.  Well, as you know, I am a Fleming, but something had to be screwed out somewhere.  He refused to see me; I sat down to wait.  After about two hours a voice bellowed:  ’Has n’t the brute gone?’ and my consul appears.  ’I ‘ve nothing for fellows like you,’ says he; ‘clear out!’

“‘Monsieur,’ I answered, ’I am skin and bone; I really must have assistance.’

“‘Clear out,’ he says, ‘or the police shall throw you out!’

“I don’t budge.  Another hour passes, and back he comes again.

“‘Still here?’ says he.  ‘Fetch a sergeant.’

“The sergeant comes.

“‘Sergeant,’ says the consul, ‘turn this creature out.’

“‘Sergeant,’ I say, ‘this house is France!’ Naturally, I had calculated upon that.  In Germany they’re not too fond of those who undertake the business of the French.

“‘He is right,’ says the sergeant; ‘I can do nothing.’

“‘You refuse?’

“‘Absolutely.’  And he went away.

“‘What do you think you’ll get by staying?’ says my consul.

“‘I have nothing to eat or drink, and nowhere to sleep,’ says I.

“‘What will you go for?’

“‘Ten marks.’

“‘Here, then, get out!’ I can tell you, monsieur, one must n’t have a thin skin if one wants to exploit consuls.”