Glories of Spain

by Charles W. Wood

"Qu'est-ce que vous nous chantez là?" said one. "Surely, my dear inspector, your sight is failing—time rolls on, you know; or you cannot read; or you have dined too well. But if you have your senses about you and examine the plaque closely, you will see that it states: For Smokers. And we are smokers. My compliments to you, Monsieur the famous Inspector. Like Dumas, we are here and we remain."

"Very good," said H. C. innocently looking on. "As a scene at the Vaudeville it would bring down the house and make the fortune of the piece. You ought to be grateful for this little distraction, but you don't look it. All was done so easily and develops so naturally."

The inspector listened whilst this fuel was being added to the fire of his wrath. "We will see about that," he said. "Come out this instant and read for yourself." He grasped the arm of the young man. As he was strong and the youth weak, the result was that Dumas' famous saying fell to the ground and he with it. In a moment he stood upon the platform and read the fatal notice.

"But it is conjuring, it is a miracle!" he cried. "I can assure you, Monsieur the Inspector, that before entering I read the label with my own eyes—we all did. Anatole—de Verriers—I appeal to you for confirmation. It positively stated For Smokers. No, oh no, I am certain of it—and I have not dined too well," laughing in spite of himself. "For Ladies only! It is too good a joke. I assure you we want a quiet night's rest; we don't want to be disturbed by the gentle snoring of the fair sex. An enemy hath done this. Tenez, Monsieur the Inspector," going to the next carriage and reading the label: "look at that. There are the innocent conspirators calmly seated in the compartment. The ladies themselves have done this. I was wrong in saying it was an enemy, for are we not all friends of the lovelier sex? But take my word for it, they are the culprits. Remark how unconscious they look; one sees it is too natural to be real—it is assumed. Poor ladies! They are nervous, perhaps, and want a safeguard about them during the perilous night journey. Or it may be that they even like smoking. After all, it is an innocent little ruse on their part to attain a very harmless end."

"Innocent, sir! harmless!" cried the outraged and perplexed inspector. "We will see!"

He approached the compartment, threw wide the door, addressed the ladies severely, as became his office, but tempered with respect and admiration, as became a man.

"How is this, ladies?" to the startled women. "Allow me to inform you that it is not convenable for members of your sex to deliberately compose themselves for the night in a compartment labelled For Smokers."

"What!" cried the ladies in a breath. "For Smokers? Quel horreur! Monsieur the Inspector, you must be mad, or you have dined too well—l'un ou l'autre. For Smokers! Why, we are horrified at smoke. It makes me cough, it makes my companion sneeze, it gets into our hair, it ruins our complexion. Monsieur the Inspector," shaking out their ruffled plumage, "this is an infamous accusation. We feel ourselves insulted. We shall appeal to the Chef de Gare. You had better at once say that we have done this thing ourselves, whilst the culprits are no doubt those three young men who are laughing behind your back. You have attacked our reputation and we will pursue the matter. When we entered this compartment it was labelled For Ladies Only, and if you will examine the plaque with sober senses you will find it still reads For Ladies Only."

"Mesdames," returned the bewildered inspector, "I will trouble you to alight and read for yourselves. No one shall accuse me of dining too well with impunity; and no one, not even such charming women as yourselves, shall exact an apology for an offence never committed."

Apparently there was nothing else for it. The ladies gracefully alighted, assisted by the gallant but uncompromising inspector, and the fatal words stared them in the face.