when they can,"
she replied, with a smile.

"Here, you!" cried Dawson, addressing himself to the man in uniform--
"you go away. Voetsaak, see! You mind your own business, and get
out."

The officer drawled something in his own tongue, which was, of
course, unintelligible to Dawson, but it had the effect of annoying
him strangely.

"You little beast!" he said, and knocked the man down with his fist.

"Run," hissed the woman at his elbow--"run before he can get up. No,
not that way. To the church and out by another way!"

She caught his hand, and together they raced across the square and in
through the big door.

There were a few people within, most sleeping on the benches and
along the floor by the walls. In the chancel there were others,
masked by the lights, busy with some offices. A wave of sudden song
issued from among them as Dawson and the woman entered, and gave way
again to the high, nervous voice of a map that stood before the
altar. All along the sides of the church was shadow, and the woman
speedily found a little arched door.

"Come through the middle of it," she whispered urgently to Dawson, as
she packed her loose skirts together in her hand--"cleanly through
the middle; do not rub the wall as you come."

He obeyed and followed her, and they were once more in the darkness
of an alley.

"It was the door of the lepers," she explained, as she let her skirts
swish down again. "See, there is the light by the sea!"

The wind came cleanly up the alley, and soon they were at its mouth,
where a lamp flickered in the breeze. Dawson drew a deep breath, and
tucked the image under his arm. His palm was sore with the roughness
of its head.

"Some one is passing," said the woman in a low tone. "Wait here till
they are by."

Footsteps were approaching along the front, and very soon Dawson
heard words and started.

"What is it!" whispered the woman, her breath on his neck.

"Listen!" he answered curtly.

The others came within the circle of the lamp--a girl and two men.

"I do hope he's found my idol," the girl was saying.

Dawson stepped into the light, and they turned and saw him.

"Why, here he is," exclaimed Miss Paterson shrilly.

He raised his hat to the woman who stood at the entrance to the
alley--raised it as he would have raised it to a waitress in a bun-
shop, and went over to the people from the second-class saloon.

"I found it," he said, lifting the image forward, and brushing with