e was the
possessor of three tickets for raffles, for each of which he had paid a
sum he would have grudged for the unneeded article that was being
raffled. He had bought several single flowers, each one on terms which
should have commanded an armful of roses, and he had had three dips into
a bag from which fortunately he had emerged with nothing more permanent
than sawdust. Rachel also had been accosted by a vendor as soon as she
came in, a moment of poignant embarrassment for all parties
concerned--herself, her escort, and the fascinating seller who had
offered her wares, for Rachel, looking at her with startled eyes, felt
in her pocket as though at last seeing what was wanted of her, and then
stammered, "I'm so sorry, I have no money with me." Pateley knew the
vendor; it was no other than Mrs. Samuels, who had emerged from behind
her stall, and was making the round of the bazaar with a basket of most
attractive-looking cakes. His eye met hers in hurried and involuntary
misgiving, mutely telling her that Rachel was not a suitable customer,
and that she had better carry her wares elsewhere. She at once responded
to the unconscious confidence and returned to himself.

"Now, Mr. Pateley," she said ingratiatingly, "you, I know, never refuse
a cake. Look, these are what you had when you came to tea with me the
other day. Now, I'll choose you the very best."

"Of course, if you will choose one for me," said Pateley gallantly.

"Oh, but one is not enough," she said, "you must have two--you really
must. Five marks. Thank you so much!" and she tripped off.

Pateley, who had already, as we have seen, spent a good deal of time and
of the money which is supposed to be its equivalent in the bazaar before
going to see Rachel, began to be conscious that before he got round it
again he would have spent a sum large enough to have kept him another
week in Schleppenheim. "However," he said to himself with a sigh, "it is
all part of the story, I suppose." In his inmost soul he felt the
conviction that he was altogether, in his strange progress through the
joyous crowd with that pale, anxious companion, going through a
sufficient penance to make amends for the misfortune of which he was the
primary cause.

"Where is Lord Stamfordham?" whispered Rachel anxiously. "Do you see
him?"

"Not at this moment," said Pateley, looking vainly in every direction.
The difficulties of his quest, and the still worse difficulties that
would certain