him I told you about once, who used to write plays, and we came on to Brussels because he had some business with the Belgian Government.

He left me pretty much to myself just then, though quite open-handed, don't you know....

One day I was walking through one of the poorer streets where the people was very Flemish, and I stood looking up at an old doorway--Dunno' why--S'pose I thought it picturesque--reminded me of Praddy's drawin's.

And an old woman comes up and says in French, 'Madame est Anglaise ?' In those days I couldn't hardly speak a word o' French, but I said 'Oui.' Then she wants me to come upstairs but I thought it was some trap.

However as far as I could make out there was a young Irishman there, she said, lying very sick of a fever and seemingly had no friends.
"Well: I took down the address and the next day I came there with the concierge of the hotel where we were staying, and under his protection we went upstairs.