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236 looked like the diacritical mark that indicates the soft vowel, dropped abruptly to an unpromising downward curve.

He retired inside, the unnecessary clatter of drinking-vessels, the scrunching of shifted table-legs, and his muttered imprecations, betraying his anger. By the seven twists in the devil's tail—he had been tricked, but he would get even! A few red welts across her soft body and she would sing another tune! Then he would waylay their guest—bah!—and then those beautiful franc-notes would be smoothed out and placed lovingly with their bed-fellows, in that hole in the wall of which she did not know.

With a vengeful toe, Linda crushed the hairy tarantella that crawled across the fissures of the courtyard, as if ending by proxy the evil life of her guardian, or whoever he was that ruled over her fate. She was very careful, however, of the tiny lizard that paused on the knife-edge of the shadow to blink his bright eyes at the sun.

"So you go tonight."

"Yes, Mademoiselle."

"And I will not see you again—for ever so long—maybe never!"

"I will come again, some day, when my fortunes change—to thank you—and repay."

"It is not that, Monsieur, but I will be ver' lonely."

She paused. In the deserted courtyard the only sounds were the angry bustle of her father and the soft lapping of the water of the harbour against the grey walls.

"How can you go—without the little map, which was stolen