ing much dust. She was a
conscientious person in her own way, and felt that she must get through
a certain amount of work in return for the anticipated reward.

She banged chairs and table about, folded up scattered clothes,
investigated them with much interest, and fingered and re-arranged the
row of boots with muttered ejaculations and covetous eyes. She had
previously contrived to get Arithelli into a night dress, had brushed
her hair back and plaited it, and pulled the green shutters together to
keep out the midday glare.

As she looked at the livid face patched with scarlet against the coarse
linen, Maria began to feel a little perturbed. Something in the
atmosphere of the room had penetrated even the brick wall of her
stolidity. She hoped the two Senors would soon return and relieve her
of the responsibility of her charge.

The stillness oppressed her, for Arithelli had ceased her moaning and
muttering for a merciful stupor.

As the hours went on the fever increased, and the horrible fungus in
her throat spread with an appalling rapidity.

As Michael Furness had prophesied, the crisis would soon be reached,
and she had everything save youth against her in the fight for life.

Maria crossed herself perfunctorily and mumbled a few prayers.
Doubtless the Senora was like all the English, a heretic, and
therefore, according to the comfortable tenets of the Roman faith,
eternally damned, but a little prayer would do no harm, and would be
counted to herself as an act of charity.

That ceremony over, more mundane considerations engrossed her mind.
She could smell the pungent odour of the _olla podrida_, or national
stew, insinuating itself through the half-open door, and she knew that
if she were not present at the meal, there would be more than one
hungry mouth ready to devour her share.

She drew a breath of relief as she marched heavily downstairs to the
more congenial surroundings of the kitchen. She had done her duty.
Senor Poleski had not told her to stay in the room all the time he was
away, and she could easily be back again before he came in.

Michael was the first to appear, almost aggressively sober, and
carrying a small wooden box. His interest in his case was as much
human as professional, and instead of wasting the afternoon, after his
usual custom, loafing and drinking, he had gone, after one modest glass
of the rough _Val de Penas_, to search in out-of-the-way streets for a
certain herbali