ht.

Contrary to the opinions expressed by the two men, Mlle. Beaucaire did
not board a passing tramcar. To Edith's eyes she seemed to be eagerly
watching for some person who might pass in one of the small open
carriages which in Marseilles take the place of the London hansom. Even
as she rapidly walked down the crowded street mademoiselle closely
scrutinised each vehicle that overtook her, and once, at a busy
crossing, she deliberately stopped. Edith, of course, slackened her
pace, and simultaneously she became aware how incongruous was her
appearance at such an hour in such a thoroughfare.

Much taller than the average Frenchwoman, neatly dressed in an English
tailor-made costume, with her smart straw hat and well-gloved hands,
Miss Talbot naturally attracted the curious gaze of the passers by.

Instantly it occurred to her that some disguise was absolutely necessary
if she would not court an attention fatal to her enterprise. It chanced
that where she stood for a moment a fruit-seller occupied a tiny shop,
squeezed tightly between a church and a restaurant. The interior was
dark enough, for a couple of flaring naphtha lamps were so disposed as
to cast their flickering brilliancy over the baskets of fruits and
vegetables displayed in the window or crowded together on the pavement.

The woman inside had a kindly and contented face, cherry ripe in cheek
and lips, and from a pair of deep-set blue eyes she looked out
quizzically at the hurrying crowd.

Assuring herself with one fleeting glance that La Belle Chasseuse still
remained motionless and intent at the crossing, Edith darted into the
shop. She produced a sovereign.

"I have not much French money," she said hurriedly, "but this is worth
twenty-five francs. Can you let me have a large dark shawl? I do not
care whether or not it is old or worn. It is necessary that I should
remain out for some few minutes longer, and I do not wish to court
observation."

Even as she spoke she removed her straw hat and eagerly tore off her
gloves. The Frenchwoman saw that one of her own sex, English, and
consequently mad, desired to screen her appearance from too inquisitive
eyes.

It was sufficient for her that there should be a spice of romance in the
request. With one hand she pocketed the sovereign; with the other she
dived into a recess beneath the counter and produced the very article
Edith wanted.

"But certainly, mademoiselle," she cried. "See. It will cover you to