to six. I could not drive through London with her for an indefinite
period. Besides, my half past seven dinner awaited me.

Why, oh, why has Judith gone to Paris? Had she been in town I could have
shot Carlotta into Tottenham Mansions, and gone home to my dinner and
Cristoforo da Costa with a light heart. Judith would have found Carlotta
vastly entertaining. She would have washed her body and analysed her
temperament. But Judith was in retreat with Delphine Carrere, and has
left me alone to bear the responsibilities of life--and Carlotta.

The cab slowly mounted Waterloo Place. I had thought of my aunts as
possible helpers, and rejected the idea. I had thought of a police
station, a hotel, my lawyers (too late), a furnished lodging, a
hospital. My mind was an aching blank.

"Where do you live?" asked Carlotta.

I looked at her and groaned. It was the only solution. "Up Regent's Park
way," I replied, aware that she was none the wiser for the information.

I gave the address to the cabman through the trap-door in the roof.

"I'm going to take you home with me for to-night," I said, severely. "I
have an excellent French housekeeper who will look after your comfort.
And to-morrow if that infernal young scoundrel of a lover of yours
is not found, it will not be the fault of the police force of Great
Britain."

She laid her grubby little hand on mine. It was very soft and cool.

"You are cross with me. Why?"

I removed her hand.

"You mustn't do that again," said I. "No; I am not in the least
cross with you. But I hope you are aware that this event is of an
unprecedented character."

"What is an unprecedented character?" she asked, stumbling over the long
words.

"A thing that has never happened before and I devoutly hope will not
happen again."

Her face was turned to me. The lower lip trembled a little. The dog-look
came into those wonderful eyes.

"You will be kind to me?" she said, in her childish monosyllables, each
word carefully articulated with a long pause between.

I felt I had behaved like a heartless brute, ever since I thrust her
into the cab at Waterloo. I relented and laughed.

"If you are a good girl and do as I tell you," said I.

"Seer Marcous is my lord and I am his slave," was her astounding reply.

Then I realised that she had been brought up by Hamdi Effendi. There is
something salutary, after all, in the training of the harem.

"I'm very glad to hear it," I said.

She closed h