m. But even though he
guessed the danger, Connor could not refrain from tempting Providence
with a speech of double meaning.

"You are very kind," he said. "Good night, David."

"May God keep you until the morning, Benjamin."

_CHAPTER TWELVE_

From the house of David, Joseph skulked down the terraces until he came
to the two long buildings and entered the smaller of these. He crossed a
patio, smaller than the court of David's house; but there, too, was the
fountain in the center and the cool flooring of turf. Across this, and
running under the dimly lighted arcade, Joseph reached a door which he
tore open, slammed behind him again, and with his great head fallen upon
his chest, stared at a little withered Negro who sat on a stool opposite
the door. It was rather a low bench of wood than a stool; for it stood
not more than six inches above the level of the floor. His shoes off,
and his bare feet tucked under his legs, he sat tailorwise and peered up
at the giant. The sudden opening of the door had set his loose blouse
fluttering about the old man's skeleton body. The sleeves fell back from
bony forearms with puckered skin. He was less a man than a receptacle of
time. His temples sank in like the temples of a very old horse; his
toothless mouth was crushed together by the pressure of the long bony
jaw, below which the skin hung in a flap. But the fire still glimmered
in the hollows of his eyes. A cheerful spirit lived in the grasshopper
body. He was knitting with a pair of slender needles, never looking at
his work, nor during the interview with Joseph did he once slacken his
pace. The needles clicked with such swift precision that the work grew
perceptibly, flowing slowly under his hands.

Meanwhile this death's head looked at the giant so steadily that Joseph
seemed to regret his unceremonious entrance. He stood back against the
door, fumbling its knob for a moment, but then his rage mastered him
once more, and he burst into the tale of Connor's coming and the ivory
head. He brought his story to an end by depositing the trinket before
the ancient man and then stood back, his face still working, and waited
with every show of confident curiosity.

As for the antique, his knitting needles continued to fly, but to view
the little carving more closely he craned his skinny neck. At that
moment, with his fallen features, his fleshless nose, he was a grinning
mummy head. He remained gloating over the little image