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While I was making up my mind as to the particular roles which these several members of the Greatest Show on Earth played, I heard the English girl say–in French, of course–English-French–with an accent:

“It is a shame to be treated in this way. We have paid for every one of these compartments, and you know it. The young masters will not go in those vile-smelling staterooms for the night. It’s no place for them. I will go to the office and complain.”

The third chocolate attendant, in reply, merely lifted his shoulders. It was the same old lift–a tired feeling seems to permeate these gentlemen, as if they were bored to death. A hotel clerk on the Riviera sometimes has this lift when he tells you he has not a bed in the house and you tell him he–prevaricates. I knew something of the lift– had already cost me five francs. I knew, too, what kind of medicine that sort of tired feeling needed, and that until the bribe was paid the young woman and her party would be bedless.

My own anger was now aroused. Here was a woman, rather a pretty woman, an Anglo-Saxon–my own race–in a strange city and under the power of a minion whose only object was plunder. That she jumped through hoops or rode bareback in absurdly short clothes, or sold pink lemonade in spangles, made no difference. She was in trouble, and needed assistance. I advanced with my best bow.

“Madam, can I do anything for you?”

She turned, and, with a grateful smile, said:

“Oh, you speak English?”

I again inclined my head.

“Well, sir, we have come from St. Petersburg by way of Berlin. We had five compartments through to Paris for our party when we started, all paid for, and this man has the tickets. He says we must get out here and buy new tickets or we must all go in two staterooms, which is impossible–” and she swept her hand over the balance of the troupe.

The chocolate gentleman again lifted his shoulders. He had been abused in that way by passengers since the day of his birth.

The richly dressed woman, another Leading Lady doubtless, now joined in the conversation–she probably was the trained rabbit-woman or the girl with the pigeons–pigeons most likely, for these stars are always selected by the management for their beauty, and she certainly was beautiful.

“And Monsieur”–this in French–again I spare the reader–“I have given him”–pointing to the chocolate gentleman–“pour boire all the time. One hundred francs yesterday and two gold pieces this morning. My maid is quite right–it is abominable, such treatment—-“

The personalities now seemed to weary the attendant. His elbows widened, his shoulders nearly touched his ears, and his fingers opened; then he went into his closet and shut the door. So far as he was concerned the debate was closed.

The memory of my own five francs now loomed up, and with them the recollection of the trick by which they had been stolen from me.

“Madam,” I said, gravely, “I will bring the manager. He is here and will see that justice is done you.”

It was marvellous to watch what followed. The manager listened patiently to the Pigeon Charmer’s explanation of the outrage, started suddenly when she mentioned some details which I did not hear, bowed as low to her reply as if she had been a Duchess–his hat to the floor–slid back the closet-door, beckoned me to step in, closed it again upon the three of us, and in less than five minutes he had the third chocolate gentleman out of his chocolate uniform and stripped to his underwear, with every pocket turned inside out, bringing to light the one-hundred-franc note, the gold pieces, and all five of the circus parties’ tickets.

Then he flung the astonished and humiliated man his trousers, waited until he had pulled them on, grabbed him by his shirt-collar and marched him out of the car across the platform through the wicket gate, every passenger on the train looking on in wonder. Five minutes later the whole party–the stately Pigeon Charmer, her English maid, the spectacled German (performing sword-swallower or lightning calculator probably), and the two boys (tumblers unquestionably), with all their belongings–were transferred to my car, the Pigeon Charmer graciously accepting my escort, the passengers, including the bald-headed man–my room-mate–standing on one side to let us pass: all except the big dog, who had shifted his quarters, and was now stretched out at the sofa end of the car.