urning round, and owing
to our table being pushed far into the corner, only his back was visible
to the people in the restaurant. I, sitting facing him, had an excellent
view of the girl and her companion, and I was all the while a witness of
the silent drama being played out between the two. There came a time
when I felt that I could stand it no longer. I leaned over our small
table, and interrupted my companion in the middle of a story.

"Forgive me," I said, "but I wish you could see that child's face. There
is something wrong, I am sure. She is terrified to death. Look, that
brute is trying to force her to drink her wine. I really can't sit and
watch it any longer."

The man who was my host, and who had called himself Mr. Grooten, nodded
his head slightly. I knew at once, however, that he was in close
sympathy with me.

"I have been watching them," he said. "There is a mirror over your head;
I have seen everything. It is a hideous-looking affair, but what can one
do?"

"I know what I am going to do, at any rate," I said, laying my serviette
deliberately upon the table. "I don't care what happens, but I am going
to speak to the child."

Mr. Grooten raised his eyebrows. Beyond this faint expression of
surprise his face betrayed neither approval nor disapproval.

"What will you gain?" he asked.

"Probably nothing," I answered. "And yet I shall try all the same. I
dare not go away with the memory of that child's face haunting me. I
must make an effort, even though it seems ridiculous. I can't help it."

My companion smiled softly.

"As you will, my impetuous young friend," he said. "This promises to be
interesting. I will await your return."

I did not hesitate any longer. I rose to my feet, and crossed the space
which lay between the two tables. As I drew nearer to her I watched the
child's face. At first a flash of desperate hope seemed suddenly to
illumine it; then a fear more abject even than before took its place as
she glanced at her companion. She watched me come, reading without a
doubt the purpose in my mind with a sort of fascinated wonder. Her eyes
were still fastened upon mine when at last I paused before her. I leaned
over the table, keeping my shoulder turned upon the man.

"You will forgive me," I said to her in a low tone, "but I believe that
you are in trouble. Can I help you? Don't be afraid to tell me if I
can."

"You--you are very kind, sir," she began, breathlessly; "I----"

Her com