th
himself that he should yield to it--touched Blake.

"I can't go with you to Montmartre," he said, abruptly. "It's
McCutcheon's last day in Paris, and I promised to give him the
afternoon."

"Who? The long, spider man who disliked me?"

"A spider who weaves big webs, I can tell you! You ought to be more
respectful to your elders."

"And I ought to have a studio across the river? Oh, Monsieur Ned, order
some food, for the love of God! I am perishing of hunger."

Blake ordered the _dejeuner_, and talked a great deal upon indifferent
subjects while they ate; but each felt jarred, each felt disappointed,
though neither could exactly have said why. At last, with a certain
relief, they finished their coffee and made a way between the long lines
of tables to the door.

There they halted for a moment in mutual hesitation, and at last the boy
held out his hand.

"And now I must wish you good-bye! Shall I see you any more?"

Blake seemed lost in thought; he took no notice of the proffered hand.

"Are you going to drive or walk?" He put the question after a
considerable pause.

"I thought to drive, because--"

Without permitting him to complete the sentence Blake crossed the
footpath and hailed a passing cab.

"Come on! In you get!"

Max obeyed uncertainly, and as he took his seat a sudden fear of loss
crushed him--life became blank, the brightness of the sun was eclipsed.

"Monsieur Ned!" he called. "Monsieur Ned! I shall see you again?"

Blake was speaking to the _cocher_. 'Rue Ronsard!' he heard him say.
'The corner of the rue Andre de Sarte!'

He leaned out of the window.

"Monsieur Ned! Monsieur Ned! I shall see you again? This is not
good-bye?"

Blake turned; he laid his hand on the door of the cab and suddenly
smiled his attractive, humorous smile.

"Little fool!" he said. "Didn't you know I was coming with you?"

PART II

CHAPTER XII

From a distinctly precarious perch--one foot on the back of a chair, the
other on an oak chest--Blake surveyed the unfurnished _salon_ of the
fifth-floor _appartement_. His coat was off, in one dusty hand he held a
hammer, in the other a picture, while from between his lips protruded a
brass-headed nail.

"If I drive the nail here, boy, will you be satisfied? Upon my word,
it's the last place I'll try!" He spoke with what dignity and
distinctness he could command, but the effect was lost upon Max, who,
also dusty, also bearing upon his person