"But what must we do?" exclaimed the impetuous Fairholme. "We cannot
allow Edith to go wandering around Marseilles by herself at this hour of
the night. I have always heard that this town is a perfectly damnable
place. What a fool I was not to follow her at once."

"Miss Talbot has acted quite rightly," said Brett decisively. "We must
simply remain here until she returns. There is not the slightest ground
for alarm. A woman who could act with such ready judgment is well able
to take care of herself. Unless I am much mistaken, we shall see her
within the hour."

It was well for the peace of mind of the younger men that Sir Hubert
Fitzjames had gone to his room soon after the party reached the hotel.
Had the irascible baronet known of his niece's mission, no power on
earth could have restrained him from setting every policeman in
Marseilles on her track forthwith.

And so they kept their vigil, striving to talk unconcernedly, but
watching the clock with feverish impatience until Edith should return.

CHAPTER XV

"MARIE"

Marseilles is one of the most picturesque cities in the world.

Its streets cluster round an ancient harbour, famous before history was
writ, or climb the sides of steep hills enclosing a land-locked bay.

In the suburbs Marseilles is modern enough, but the chief thoroughfare,
known to all who read, the famous and ever busy Cannebiere, plunges
rapidly downhill until it empties itself on the crowded quays that
surround the old port.

With the newer Marseilles of the Joliette--well found in wharfs and
warehouses, steam cranes and railway lines--the town beloved of the
Phoenicians has no concern. There is no touch of modern ugliness in
the tiny maritime refuge which is barely half the size of the
Serpentine. Lofty, old-fashioned, half-ruined houses throng close to its
rugged quays.

At night this quarter of the turbulent city wears an air of intense
mystery. The side streets are narrow and tortuous. Dark courts and
alleys twist in every conceivable direction, while the brightness of the
many wine shops facing each other across the tideless harbour only
serves to enhance the squalid gloom that forms the most marked
characteristic of the buildings clustered behind them.

Edith Talbot, intent on the pursuit of a woman so dramatically bound up
with the mystery affecting her brother, paid heed to no consideration
save the paramount one, that the hurrying figure in front must be kept
in sig