nd yellow and blue."

Constans was all on fire in an instant. "Will you show it to me?" he
asked.

"In there," said the girl, and pointed to a recess between two tall
cases.

Ten feet above his head ran a metal gallery that gave access to the
upper tiers of shelves, but Constans did not look up, being intent upon
the treasure. Where was it? He could not see.

The noose of a rope had tightened upon his arms before he was aware that
it encircled them. He made one furious, ineffectual effort to free
himself, and then stood motionless, waiting for the next move of the
unseen enemy. Forthwith, a second noose dropped smoothly around his
neck; it was at once drawn taut, and Constans was obliged to stretch
himself to his full height to avoid being strangled. He heard Esmay clap
her hands, and steps descending from the gallery; then his captor stood
before him. He was a boy of Constans's own age, but of shorter,
sturdier build. A pleasant, ingenuous face it was, flushed now with the
joy of triumph.

"Got him," he announced, importantly, to the traitress Esmay, who had
retreated towards the door. "Don't be such a coward; he can't get away,"
he continued, examining his victim's bonds with critical attention.

"Look, Esmay; if he moves he hangs himself. A fix, isn't it?" and the
boy laughed contentedly. It had been rare sport, this trapping of a man,
worth half a dozen wolves or even a bear.

"Hollo! Esmay," he called again, and the girl came up slowly. "You did
it splendidly," said the boy. "Here's the bracelet I promised you," and
he held out a circlet of gold-filigree work studded with carbuncles.
"They match your eyes," he added, in awkward compliment, and then
blushed for the incredible weakness of mind that had prompted his words.
Was she going to laugh at him?

But the girl took, the bracelet without even a look at the donor. She
snapped it on her wrist and walked defiantly, straight up to the
prisoner, as though she would compel him to admire her treasure, to
congratulate her upon it.

Constans held himself serenely imperturbable, not even turning his head.
Her face burned. She threw the bauble on the floor; it lay there crushed
and shapeless. Then she turned upon her accomplice in the successful
treachery.

"I hate you! I hate you!" She walked away, imperially offended, and
stood looking out of a window that faced the street.

"Whew!" whistled the boy, in dismay, that was half comic and half real.
He address