p tear out and fight and scuffle under the
window. They come in again and again, but finally, Peruvian patience
and Mexican medias being alike exhausted, the Baron rises in his seat
looking remarkably ferocious, and addresses them in stirring Spanish.
The whole crowd take to their heels, tumbling one over another in
excited haste.

"What in the world have you said?" asked Mrs. Steele, greatly amused.

"Oh, nodthing much," says the Baron in his usual low and gentle tone;
"I only zay if dthey effer come again I vill cut dthem up vidth a big
knife and haf dthem boil for breakfast."

"You barbarian!" laughs Mrs. Steele, rising. And then she looks about.
"We might have a glimpse of the church before we go if there's time."

"Sairtainly!" agrees the Baron, and we find our way through the now
quieter and dimmer thoroughfare to the Catholic Cathedral behind the
Plaza. The occasional candle gives out too dim a light for us to form
much of an idea of the interior, but it is cool and damp and
mysterious. Mrs. Steele, who is a thorough and highly intelligent
sightseer, explores the dim corners and finally goes back for a last
look at some detail she found specially interesting. I wait for her
in the dusk down by the door; the Baron has disappeared for the
moment. "I wish Mrs. Steele wouldn't be so particular about taking
notes," I say to myself. "I'm tired, and it's very uncanny and
grave-like here." A little sound beside me, and I turn with a start.
In the dim light I see a chimpanzee-like face looking up to mine. It
is horribly seared and wrinkled, one tooth sticks out from the wide,
shrivelled lips, and the beady animal-like eyes glare through grey elf
locks. I am speechless with fright, till the dreadful apparition
stretches out a skinny arm and with some strange words lays a
claw-like hand on my bare wrist. I shrink back, uttering a little
muffled cry of horror.

The big Peruvian comes hurriedly towards me from the other side of the
church.

"Vas dthat you, Senorita?" he says.

Faint with fatigue and fright, I put out a shaking hand to steady
myself self against the damp pillar.

"Senorita, you air so white!" he says hurriedly, and coming near he
draws me away from the clammy wall.

"You haf been frighten?" he asks softly, his face close to mine.

"Yes," I find breath to say; "a witch or a monkey is in the church,
and it touched me in the dark."

A shiver runs over me again at the remembrance, but I try to draw a