CHAPTER XXVII.
Mr.SABIN drew a little breath, partly of satisfaction because he had discovered the place he sought, and partly of disgust at the neighbourhood in which he found himself.

Nevertheless, he descended three steps from the court into which he had been directed, and pushed open the swing door, behind which Emil Sachs announced his desire to supply the world with dinners at eightpence and vin ordinaire at fourpence the small bottle.
A stout black-eyed woman looked up at his entrance from behind the counter.

The place was empty.
"What does monsieur require she asked, peering forward through the gloom with some suspicion.

For the eightpenny dinners were the scorn of the neighbourhood, and strangers were rare in the wine shop of Emil Sachs." Mr.Sabin smiled.
"One of your excellent omelettes, my good Annette," he answered, "if your hand has not lost its cunning!" She gave a little cry.
"It is monsieur!" she exclaimed.

"After all these years it is monsieur! Ah, you will pardon that I did not recognise you.