ty which an ironist has called "the mask of weakness."

Next morning, when they asked him to state his whole knowledge of the
matter, he told them that as he had been about to light the fire Mr.
Verne had seen, amid the brushwood, a bit of newspaper showing his name
in large type. It was there, no doubt, in consequence of the servants'
carelessness.

"But you gave it to him," the local chief of police remarked severely.

"Before I knew."

Their indignation was softened by his crushed mien, and by his inflamed
eyes. Having arrived at their verdict, they discussed Arabs--or, as
they called them, "Ayrabs"--and one honest old fellow even paid the
race a compliment, in saying:

"It's said that when they like a person they will do anything for them."

It was Hamoud who told her.

The nurse, stealing a nap on the couch in the sitting room, did not
stir as he passed into the bedchamber; but Lilla awoke at the command
of his eyes. When he had finished speaking:

"No!" she sighed, as the world burst into fragments, and, like the bits
of colored glass in a kaleidoscope, slid swiftly into a new pattern.
"Ah, the poor soul! The poor soul!" She saw him more clearly, she
understood him better, than in life. "All for nothing!"

No, surely not all for nothing!

At any rate, these were tears of convalescence.

CHAPTER LII

A fortnight later, as she sat in a deep chair in the living room,
Hamoud presented himself in the doorway, to announce:

"He is here."

Parr crept into her presence.

The little, grizzled fellow advanced a few steps, limping on his cane,
then halted, frightened by this thin, white-faced woman who, her chin
in her cupped hand, sat staring at him with the cold eyes of a queen
about to condemn a malefactor to death. She was wrapped in a negligee
of peach-colored silk from the flowing sleeves of which long tassels
trailed on the rug. The morning light, as though lured from all other
objects in the room by this motionless, fine figure, accentuated her
appearance of iciness. She spoke, too, in the voice of a stranger, in
accents that thrilled with a force produced incongruously from so
emaciated a body.

"Come closer. I want to look at you."

He resumed his tremulous advance very slowly, because he was so heavily
burdened by his loyalty to the beloved master and his treason to this
once gentle benefactress. Casting down his eyes, he stood before her
abjectly leaning on his cane. His ho