panion intervened. Astonishment and anger combined to render his
voice unsteady.

"Eh? What's this? Who the devil are you, sir, and what do you mean by
speaking to my ward?"

I disregarded his interruption altogether. I still addressed myself only
to the child, and I spoke as encouragingly as I could.

"Don't be afraid to tell me," I said. "Think that I am your brother. I
want to help you if I can."

"Oh, if you only could!" she moaned.

Her companion seized me by the arm and forced me to turn round. His face
was red almost to suffocation, and two thick blue veins stood out upon
his forehead in ugly fashion. His voice was scarcely articulate by
reason of his attempt to keep it low.

"Of all the infernal impertinence! What do you mean by it, sir? Who are
you? How dare you force yourself upon strangers in this fashion?"

"I am quite aware that I am doing an unusual thing," I answered, "and I
perhaps deserve all that you can say to me. At the same time, I am here
to have my question answered. You have a child with you who is
apparently terrified to death. I insist upon hearing from her own lips
whether she is in need of friends."

White and mute, she looked from one to the other. It was the man who
answered.

"If this were not a public place," he said, still struggling with his
anger, "I'd punish you as you deserve, you impudent young cub. This
young lady is my ward, and I have just brought her from a convent, where
she has lived since she was three years old. She is strange and shy, of
course, and I was perhaps wrong to bring her to a public place. I did
it, however, out of kindness. I wanted her to enjoy herself, but I
perhaps did not appreciate her sensitiveness and the fact that only a
few days ago she parted with the friends with whom she has lived all her
life. Now, sir," he added, with a sneer upon his coarse lips, "I have
been compelled to answer your questions to avoid a disturbance in a
public place; but I promise you that if you do not make yourself scarce
in thirty seconds I will send for the manager."

I looked once more at the child, from whose white, set face every gleam
of hope seemed to have fled.

"I can do nothing for you, then?" I asked.

Her eyes met mine helplessly. She shook her head. She did not speak at
all.

"Is it true--what he has told me?" I asked.

She murmured an assent so faint, that though I was bending over her, it
scarcely did more than reach my ears. I could do no more.