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 limited to a small letter of credit—a provision just amply sufficient until his drafts should begin to arrive from Lehren. But now, until he could write another play and get it "on," or do other kinds of writing there would be nothing. Moreover, he had paid M. Cayzac for the automobile and the chauffeur's expenses through to Tunis in advance; the hospitality he had extended to a luxurious lady and her son had been far from niggardly; and upon his letter of credit there now remained at his disposal the sum of sixty-seven dollars.

Out of this and some French money in his pocket-book he must settle his account at the hotel, which doubtless would include that of Mme. Momoro and her son, since they had been his guests in this inclusive manner throughout the excursion. Then he must get to a seaport, either Algiers or Tunis, and thence to Marseilles or Naples by sea, and still have enough money left to pay his passage back to New York. This was his immediate problem and the answer appeared to be of an overwhelming simplicity;—it could not be done.

What employment, he wondered, could be found among the Saharan oases by an American playwright who knew but the one trade and had failed at that?