sneered nor abused her. Her hand, still wrapped in
stained linen, had now begun to burn and smart considerably, and was
proof sufficient of the reality of her experience. Her spine and the
soles of her feet tingled as she lived again through the horror of the
descent from the window. She could never endure a repetition of that
ordeal. Next time she would refuse and they could add one more murder
to the list of their crimes.

She dragged herself up and dressed slowly. She remembered that there
was to be a gala performance at the Hippodrome that night in honour of
the presence of one of the Infantas, her husband and suite, who were
passing through the town, and had announced their intention of being
present. For all the performers it meant more work and an extra
rehearsal.

When Emile came in they shared their coffee and rolls together. She
was thankful that he made no reference to her passionate outburst of
the night before. He was outwardly as curt and dictatorial as ever,
and neither of them discussed the affairs of the Brotherhood.

"I must go down to practise," Arithelli said after a while. "Shall you
be there to-night? You know there is to be a grand performance in
honour of the loyalties?"

"No," answered Emile, "I shall be busy. Besides, the Royalties will be
safer if I'm _not_ there! We don't trouble ourselves about these
particular ones though. They're not important enough."

"I'm sorry you're not coming," Arithelli answered.

Emile ungratefully disregarded the implied compliment, and threw out a
blunt, "Why?"

"I don't quite know. I think there is going to be something unlucky."

"You're going to tumble off, you mean? Better not! You don't want to
get turned out, do you?"

Arithelli turned to a mirror on the wall.

"Do I look very ghastly?" she asked.

"Not much more than usual. None of us look very fresh out here, do we?
Do you think your hat is on straight, you untidy little trollop? Well,
it isn't! Hurry up,--it's late. No, I'm not going down there with
you. I'll stay here, and do some writing."

The rehearsal that morning seemed interminable. For the first time
since she had ridden in public Arithelli bungled over her tricks. She
jumped short, miscalculated distances, and once barely saved herself
from a severe fall.

The ring-master, with whom she was a great favourite, shook his head
reproachfully at her, as he paused to rest and wipe his heated
countenance. He wa