"Then you certainly cannot find your education dead stock." The grave, not amused, smile which was the landlord's only rejoinder, though perfectly courteous, intimated that his tenant was sailing over depths of the question that he was little aware of.

But the smile in a moment gave way for the look of one who was engrossed with another subject.
"M'sieu'," he began; but just then Joseph made an apologetic gesture and went forward to wait upon an inquirer after "Godfrey's Cordial;" for that comforter was known to be obtainable at "Frowenfeld's." The business of the American drug-store was daily increasing.

When Frowenfeld returned his landlord stood ready to address him, with the air of having decided to make short of a matter.
"M'sieu' -- --" "Have a seat, sir," urged the apothecary.
His visitor again declined, with his uniform melancholy grace.

He drew close to Frowenfeld.
"Ah wand you mague me one _ouangan_," he said.
Joseph shook his head.

He remembered Doctor Keene's expressed suspicion concerning the assault of the night before.
"I do not understand you, sir; what is that ?" "You know." The landlord offered a heavy, persuading smile.
"An unguent?
Is that what you mean--an ointment ?" "M'sieu'," said the applicant, with a not-to-be-deceived expression, "_vous etes astrologue--magicien--" "God forbid!" The landlord was grossly incredulous.
"You godd one 'P'tit Albert.'" He dropped his forefinger upon an iron-clasped book on the table, whose title much use had effaced.
"That is the Bible.