He had that air of distinction which, if wielded good-naturedly, is the surest passport in any concourse.

Some, no doubt, recognised him as an Englishman.

One after another made way for him.
Persons unknown to him commanded others to step aside and let him pass; for the busybody we have always with us.
In a few minutes he was at the top of the stairs, and there elbowed his way into the office, where the five clerks sat bent up over their ledgers.

The space on the hither side of the counter was crammed with men, who whispered impatiently together.

If any one raised his voice, the clerk whose business it was lifted his head and looked at the speaker with a mute surprise.
One after another these white-faced applicants leant over the counter.
"Voyons, Monsieur!" they urged; "tell me this or inform me of that." But the clerk only smiled and shook his head.
"Patience, Monsieur," he answered.