ttle
fellow; it is a good business--yours. Keep it while you can."

I think he would have sprung upon her there and then, but that the
Quartermaster, who was nearest him, and had been intently watching his
face, made a scarcely perceptible movement as if ready to anticipate
him. He caught the officer's eye; caught, I think, in ours the
revelation that he had been understood, drew back with a sidelong,
sinuous movement, and disappeared in the passage to the kitchen.

I believe we all breathed more freely, although the situation was still
full enough of impending possibilities to prevent peaceful enjoyment
of our dinner. As the Editor finished his hurried translation, it was
suggested that we ought to warn the unsuspecting escort of Tournelli's
threats. But it was pointed out that this would be betraying the woman,
and that Jo Hays (her companion) was fully able to take care of himself.
"Besides," said the Editor, aggrievedly, "you fellows only think of
YOURSELVES, and you don't understand the first principles of journalism.
Do you suppose I'm going to do anything to spoil a half-column of leaded
brevier copy--from an eye-witness, too? No; it's a square enough fight
as it stands. We must look out for the woman, and not let Tournelli get
an unfair drop on Hays. That is, if the whole thing isn't a bluff."

But the Italian did not return. Whether he had incontinently fled, or
was nursing his wrath in the kitchen, or already fulfilling his threat
of waiting on the pavement outside the restaurant, we could not guess.
Another waiter appeared with the dinners they had ordered. A momentary
thrill of excitement passed over us at the possibility that Tournelli
had poisoned their soup; but it presently lapsed, as we saw the couple
partaking of it comfortably, and chatting with apparent unconcern. Was
the scene we had just witnessed only a piece of Southern exaggeration?
Was the woman a creature devoid of nerves or feeling of any kind; or was
she simply a consummate actress? Yet she was clearly not acting, for
in the intervals of conversation, and even while talking, her dark eyes
wandered carelessly around the room, with the easy self-confidence of
a pretty woman. We were beginning to talk of something else, when the
Editor said suddenly, in a suppressed voice:

"Hullo! What's the matter now?"

The woman had risen, and was hurriedly throwing her cloak over her
shoulders. But it was HER face that was now ashen and agitated, and w