Page:The Magic Carpet Magazine v04n01 (1934-01).djvu/130

  afternoon. I heard a delighted voice chirruping at me from across the foyer of the Hotel de l'Europe:

"Allo! Allo! Allo! Cheerheeo, my frien'! I ahm glad to see you again!"

Monsieur Jaccquard grasped my hand, beamed at me and rushed on, without giving me a chance to get a word in edgewise.

"Tonight I leave for Marseilles. An' I ahm all—how you say?—all set to tell my wife 'bout you. My wife not lak Américains; she say you are Shylockers. But w'en I tell her how you help zat poor countrywoman of mine, why, by Gods, she never will dare say it again!"

I gave Monsieur Jaccquard a sour, suspecting look. But the eyes that looked into mine were limpid and blue, absolutely guileless. I put a sudden, sharp clamp on my tongue. I knew now that as far as he was concerned my suspicions were unfounded. He had not been implicated in Mademoiselle Pauline's adroit "touch."

After all, we had been lucky, Monsieur Jaccquard and I. The Mayor of Soerabaya was in jail!



China's River of Sorrow Is a Yellow River That shines like gold.

Life's River of Sorrow Is gold that flows Like a Yellow River.  2em