perfectly well," replied Mr. Greyne, with an attempt at
cheerfulness.

"Still, monsieur will feel much better after a little food."

Mr. Greyne began to toy with an egg.

"You know Algiers?" he asked.

"I was born here, monsieur. If monsieur wishes to explore to-night again
the Kasbah I can----"

But Mr. Greyne stopped him with a gesture that was almost fierce.

"Where is the Rue du Petit Negre?"

"Monsieur wishes to go there to-night?"

"I wish to go there now, directly I have finished break--lunch."

The head waiter's face was wreathed with humorous surprise.

"But monsieur is wonderful--superb! Never have I seen a traveller like
monsieur!"

He gazed at Mr. Greyne with tropical appreciation.

"Monsieur had better have a carriage. The street is difficult to find."

"Order me one. I shall start at once."

Mr. Greyne pushed away the sunlit buttered toast, and got up.

"Monsieur is superb. Never have I seen a traveller like monsieur!"
Napoleon's voice was almost reverent. He hastened out, followed slowly
by Mr. Greyne.

"A carriage for monsieur! Monsieur desires to go to the Rue du Petit
Negre!"

The staff of the hotel gathered about the door as if to speed a royal
personage, and Mr. Greyne noticed that their faces too were touched
with an almost startled reverence. He stepped into the carriage, signed
feebly, but with determination, to the Arab coachman, and was driven
away, followed by a parting "_Oh, la la!_" from the chasseur, uttered in
a voice that sounded shrill with sheer amazement.

Through winding, crowded streets he went, by bazaars and Moorish
bath-houses, mosques and Catholic churches, barracks and cafes, till at
length the carriage turned into an alley that crept up a steep hill. It
moved on a little way, and then stopped.

"Monsieur must descend here," said the coachman. "Mount the steps, go
to the right and then to the left. Near the summit of the hill he will
find the Rue du Petit Negre. Shall I wait for monsieur?"

"Yes."

The coachman began to make a cigarette, while Mr. Greyne set forth
to follow his directions, and, at length, stood before an arch, which
opened into a courtyard adorned with orange-trees in tubs, and paved
with blue and white tiles. Around this courtyard was a three-storey
house with a flat roof, and from a bureau near a little fountain a stout
Frenchwoman called to demand his business. He asked for Mademoiselle
Verbena, and was at once shown into a saloon li