n
her that evening.

Even Billy's sense of humor was unstirred by the half-cynical
sympathy of the night-clerk's gaze; Billy didn't feel a laugh
anywhere within him. He was balked. The dancer had vanished with her
story, and that story was essential to the consul. Like a fool he
must return empty-handed with this yarn of her disappearance and the
consul would be justified in declaring that he had no actual proof
to act upon. Which was precisely what the consul did, but he
offered, impressed with Billy's earnestness, "to take the matter
up," with the proper authorities.

It seemed the best that could be done. Billy urged him to prompt
action, and to himself he promised some prompt action of a totally
unofficial character. He knew now what he was going to do, or rather
he thought he did, for the day still held its unsettling surprises
for him, and as he set forth on business bent that afternoon he
found himself besieged by a skinny little boy in tattered blue
robes, who danced around him with a handful of dirty postcards.

"Be off," said Billy, in vigorous Arabic, and the little boy
answered proudly, in most excellent English, "I am a messenger, sir.
I am the boy who held the canoe that night. Buy a postcard, sir?
Only six piastres a dozen, six piastres, Views of Egypt, the Sphinx,
the Nile, the----"

Impatiently Billy cut him short.

"Never mind the bluff. No one is listening. What's your message?"

"The streets have ears, sir. Buy a postcard?... I have come from the
palace. I brought in the bread. I--_I_ got in under their nose while
the big Mohammed was turned away without sight of his uncle,"
bragged the little Imp. "I am a clever boy, I. No one else so clever
to find out things. The American man did well to come to me."

"What the devil, then, did you find out?"

"Five piastres a dozen, then, only five.... Go on walking, sir, I
will run alongside. Keep shaking your head at me--very good.... I
find out where she are."

"Where _who_ are?"

The little braggart had roused Billy's suspicions. He determined to
be wary.

"The young girl with the very light hair. Mohammed send me to ask of
her. You know, sir," the little fellow insisted, hopping up and down
beside him. "Only four a dozen--very cheap!" he screeched at him in
a tone that must have carried for blocks. "I run in with the bread
and take it to the kitchen where women are working. And I pretend
make love to one very pretty girl, tell her how I come