At last he looked again at his watch.

“The hour his struck.  Let us proceed.”

Instinctively I summoned the waiter, and drew a coin from my pocket; and when the grown-up person and the small boy hobnob together the former pays.  But Anastasius, with a swift look of protest, anticipated my intention.  I was his guest for the evening.  I yielded apologetically, the score was paid, and we went forth into the moonlight.

He led me across the Place du Gouvernement and struck straight up the hill past the Cathedral, and, turning, plunged into a network of narrow streets, where the poor of all races lived together in amity and evil odours.  Shops chiefly occupied the ground floors; some were the ordinary humble shops of Europeans; others were caves lit by a smoky lamp, where Arabs lounged and smoked around the tailors or cobblers squatting at their work; others were Jewish, with Hebrew inscriptions.  There were dark Arab cafes, noisy Italian wine-shops, butchers’ stalls; children of all ages played and screamed about the precipitous cobble-paved streets; and the shrill cries of Jewish women, sitting at their doors, rose in rebuke of husband or offspring.  Not many lights appeared through the shuttered windows of the dark, high houses.  Overhead, between two facades, one saw a strip of paleness which one knew was the moonlit sky.  Conversation with my companion being difficult—­the top of his silk hat just reached my elbow—­I strode along in silence, Anastasius trotting by my side.  Many jeers and jests were flung at us as we passed, whereat he scowled terribly; but no one molested us.  I am inclined to think that Anastasius attributed this to fear of his fierce demeanour.  If so, he was happy, as were the simple souls who flouted; and this reflection kept my mind serene.

Presently we turned into a wide and less poverty-stricken street, which I felt sure we could have reached by a less tortuous and malodorous path.  A few yards down we came to a dark porte cochere.  The dwarf halted, crossed, so as to read the number by the gas lamp, and joining me, said: 

“It is here.  Have you your visiting-cards ready?”

I nodded.  We proceeded down the dark entry till we came to a slovenly, ill-kept glass box lit by a small gas jet, whence emerged a slovenly, ill-kept man.  This was the concierge.  Anastasius addressed a remark to him which I did not catch.

“Au fond de la cour, troisieme a gauche,” said the concierge.

As yet there seemed to be nothing peculiarly perilous about the adventure.  We crossed the cobble-paved courtyard and mounted an evil-smelling stone staircase, blackened here and there by the occasional gas jets.  On the third landing we halted.  Anastasius put up his hand and gripped mine.

“Two strong men together,” said he, “need fear nothing.”

I confess my only fear was lest the confounded revolver which swung insecurely in my hip-pocket might go off of its own accord.  I did not mention this to my companion.  He raised his hat, wiped his brow, and rang the bell.