inflected English, and its quaint little slips. She had learned
it in London long before, playing with wee Honorable toddlers while her
father played France's diplomacy with grown-ups. That accent of hers,
then, was as broad as Mayfair, and to the Missourian doubly foreign, and
doubly alluring.

"I cannot understand," she said, "why it is the Dragoons have not
followed you immediately?"

"Tibby's the reason, I reckon. That Tibby is a deep one."

She made him explain, and he told her. The blackmailing humorist,
Tiburcio, had paid him a visit at his dungeon window during the night.
Being chief witness for the prosecution, Tiburcio could pass the sentry
unchallenged.

"Come for your money?" Driscoll had inquired, and Tiburcio seemed hurt.

"What is the matter," Tiburcio demanded, "with pointing a revolver at
the Senor Americano right now, and making him deliver?"

Driscoll had not figured out what the objections might be, but he
reckoned some would materialize.

"But," said Tiburcio, "I'm not doing it, and why? Simply because I want
to know if you care to escape?"

"W'y," returned Driscoll, "I'll think it over, and let you know in the
morning," at which lack of confidence Tiburcio was more hurt than ever.

"What's the use," Driscoll objected, "they'd catch me again?"

"Not if I fixed their horses, and if I do, will you promise to get out?"

And thus the bargain had stood, and thus it was fulfilled, though at the
last the anxious Tiburcio had called in Jacqueline to help.

"Now," said the marchioness, settling herself for a treat, "I
_must_ know. Tame for me the miracle, explain it. I cannot longer
hold my curiosity. But it was fine--exquis--however you have done it!"

"Weren't they a surprised lot, though?"

"But the miracle, monsieur! The miracle!"

"Well, it was this way. Being on the yawning brink--as old Meagre
Shanks, friend of mine, would say--I figured it out that lacking in
godliness, I'd try to get the next best thing."

"Please, monsieur!"

"That I'd try to get a bath."

"Of dust and mud, for example?"

At that Driscoll ceased all miracle taming and brushed himself off. But,
putting him back into his dungeon, one will recall how he plotted to
obtain two jars of water. This water he used simply to soften the hard,
sun-baked adobes. First he hung his coat over the window. A suspicious
guard naturally wanted to know why, and Driscoll appeared at the bars
stripped to the waist. To keep out the