And now, tell me, shall it be the highways or the byways--Montmartre or the Quartier Latin ?" Max smiled decisively.

"Montmartre." "You know Montmartre ?" "No." The Irishman laughed again.

"Good!" he cried.

"You're a fine adventurer! You have the right spirit! Always know your own mind, whatever else you're ignorant about! But I ought to tell you that Montmartre swarms with your needy fellow-countrymen." The boy looked up.

"My needy fellow-countrymen will not harm me--or know me." "Good again! Then the coast is clear! I only thought to warn you." "I appreciate the thought." For an instant the old reserve touched the voice.
"Now, Max! Now! Now!" The other turned to him, caught his arm again, and swung him out into the Esplanade des Invalides.