I'll wager they've niver seen th' taste av' a pancake in this
country."
Thus it was that when Hippolyte Lariviere, the cornet-player of the Palais
de Cinema, ascended the stairs to his eerie on the top-floor of 10 _bis_
the following evening the appetising odour of frying batter enveloped him
as a garment. He sniffed appreciatively.
"_Le gros_ Bonneton can eat _crepes_ freely without considering the effect
on his temperament," he said. "One sometimes regrets the demands of Art."
Outside the Coghlans' door another idea struck him. "The essence of a
present lies not in its value but its appropriateness. A few _crepes_ on
Mardi Gras would be a novel acknowledgment to the Sergeant-Major of his
liberality in the way of cigarettes. At present my case is empty."
Retracing his steps he went to the Cafe aux Gourmets and persuaded the
_proprietaire_ to prepare half-a-dozen _crepes_ with all possible speed and
send them piping-hot to his room in exchange for a promise of his influence
in getting her on the free list of the Cinema. Then, in a glow of virtue,
he returned to prepare his toilette for the evening performance.
It was while Hippolyte was dabbing his cheeks with a damp towel that
M'sieur Bonneton and Sergeant-Major Coghlan, having comfortably satisfied
their respective appetites with _crepes_ and pancakes, proceeded to call
upon each other, bearing gifts.
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