The old landlord is a genius.

He doesn't put on airs.

He's a good man, is old Swinton, and there's nothing good in the drink of France that you can't get here." "Well, if that's true, how does it happen ?" asked Dyck, with a little flash of interest.

"Why should this little twopenny, one-horse place--I mean in size and furnishments--have such luck as to get the best there is in France?
It means a lot of trouble, eh ?" "It means some trouble.

But let me tell you"-- he leaned over the table and laid a hand on Dyck's, which was a little nervous--"let me speak as an old friend to you, if I may.