But was he not seeking the unknown?
Again his head went up, again his shoulders stiffened, and, smiling to himself at some secret thought, he swung round the corner and plunged into the unexplored.
Half way down the rue de Dunkerque stands the Hotel Railleux.

It is a tall and narrow house, somewhat dirty and entirely undistinguished; there is nothing to recommend it save perhaps an air of privacy, a certain insignificance that wedges it between the surrounding buildings in a manner tempting to one anxious to avoid his fellows.
This quality it was that caught the boy's attention.

He paused and studied the Hotel Railleux with an attention that he had denied to the large and common hostelries that front the station.

He looked at it long and meditatively, then very slowly and thoughtfully he walked to the end of the street.

At the end of the street he turned, his mind made up, and, hurrying back, went straight into the hall of the hotel as though thirsting to pledge himself irrevocably to his decision.
It is impossible for the sensible individual to see romance in this entry into a third-rate Parisian hotel--to see daring or to see danger--but the boy's heart was beating fast as the glass door swung behind him, and his tongue was dry as he stepped into the little office on the right of the poor hall.
Here in the office the story of the streets was repeated.