d
killed on the spot, apparently from close quarters, probably from behind
the hedge. The servants had gone home and found his body next morning. If
they are to be believed, no one heard a shot. Men have been imprisoned
and men will suffer death for the murder, no doubt; but whether the
actual murderer is shot or goes scot-free, and what his inducement for
committing the crime, probably half Tetuan will know and half Tetuan will
tell, _and tell a lie_.

Some say that A---- was shot for the sake of his gun and his money.
Others that he was shot by some Riffi brothers because he was in the
habit of talking to their sister. Others that the murder was connected
with his having lived at one time with a Moorish woman, from whom he
eventually separated.

No one will ever know.

Jinan Dolero would have been called in the Riviera "a villa": it was a
typical Moorish garden-house. We lived upstairs, after the manner of the
country, in the airiest and lightest of small whitewashed sitting-rooms:
its three windows, set certainly with head-splitting glass, looked south,
east, and west, on sea, mountains, and city. The second larger room, in
which we slept, had a thick white pillar in the very middle of it,
supporting the ceiling. A store-room on the same floor did duty as
larder, and a staircase led up on to the flat white roof.

Underneath us were kitchen, mules' stable, and two rooms for our two
servants: a little staircase led down to them and on to the hall and
front door. The floors were all tiled: a dip in the corner of each room
and a hole in the wall carried off the water when they were sluiced down.
Innocent of spouting, the water merely streamed down the outside wall.
Each window reached to the floor, and an inartistic iron grille removed
all danger of falling out. It was the sunniest house in the world, and an
airy one, for the passage and rooms had loop-holes, a foot high and four
inches wide, cut in the wall, through which air freely circulated. On the
ground floor the windows were _nil_, but more loop-holes let in ample
light. One was constructed on each side our hall door, that before
unbarring at night we might know what manner of visitor we had, and even
fire a charge through the aperture if the occasion warranted.

Our garden was another Moorish wilderness, another "Field of the
Slothful," thick in a waste of weeds, blue borage, and yellow marigolds.
But it was also a vineyard. Dead-looking branches of vines tr