douceur_, and tell him to go about his
business.

Before doing this, however, Mr. Greyne desired to have one more
interview with the mysterious Ouled on the heights, to whom he owed the
knowledge which would henceforth enable him to cut out the militia. He
said so to Abdallah Jack. The latter agreed sulkily to arrange it;
and matters so fell out that on the night of Mrs. Greyne's arrival
her husband was seated in a room in one of the remotest houses of the
Kasbah, watching the Ouled's mysterious evolutions, while Mademoiselle
Verbena--as she herself had informed Mr.4 Greyne--sat in the hospital by
the bedside of her still dying mother. Abdallah Jack had apparently been
most anxious to assist at Mr. Greyne's interview with the Ouled, but
Mr. Greyne had declined to allow this. The evil temper of the guide was
beginning to get thoroughly upon his employer's nerves, and even the
natural desire to have an interpreter at hand was overborne by the
dislike of Abdallah Jack's morose eyes and sarcastic speeches about
women. Moreover, the Ouled spoke a word or two of uncertain French.

Thus, therefore, things fell out, and such was the precise situation
when Mrs. Greyne flicked a crumb from her chocolate brocade gown, tied
her bonnet strings, and rose from table to set forth to the Kasbah with
Abdallah Jack.

It was a radiant night. In the clear sky the stars shone brilliantly,
looking down upon the persistent convulsions of the little chasseur, who
had not yet recovered from his attack of merriment on learning who
Mrs. Greyne was. The sea, quite calm now that the great novelist was no
longer upon it, lapped softly along the curving shores of the bay. The
palm-trees of the town garden where the band plays on warm evenings
waved lazily in the soft and scented breeze. The hooded figures of the
Arabs lounged against the stone wall that girdles the sea-front. In the
brilliantly-illuminated restaurants the rich French population gathered
about the little tables, while the withered beggars stared in upon the
oyster shells, the champagne bottles, and the feathers in the women's
audacious hats.

When Mrs. Greyne emerged upon the pavement before the Grand Hotel,
attended by Mrs. Forbes and the guide, she paused for a moment, and cast
a searching glance upon the fairy scene. In this voluptuous evening and
strange environment life seemed oddly dreamlike. She scarcely felt like
Mrs. Greyne. Possibly Mrs. Forbes also felt unlike herself, f