-out of a chest, to
flee at dawn from a town whose name she had never heard mentioned,
though she had lived within walking distance of it all her life?

[Illustration: SCOOPED HUNDREDS--PERHAPS THOUSANDS--OUT OF A CHEST, TO
FLEE AT DAWN]

It was absurd--but something must be done. Margarita sat contented and
amused, devouring the shabby bustle all around her with her great
deep-set eyes, willing, apparently, to sit there indefinitely.

"Will you let me examine your bag?" Roger said at last, and she handed
him the coarse, imitation-leather affair. There was a soiled, cheap
handkerchief in it, some four hundred dollars in banknotes, and a torn
envelope with a town and state written clearly on it.

I have tried to write the name of this town, and when I found that
impossible, I tried to invent one to take its place, but I could not
do it. Surely it is nothing to any of you who may happen to read this
poor attempt of mine to pass my time, nothing, and less than nothing,
just what may be the name of the utterly unimportant little backwater
of a village from which, if you know the way, you may walk four miles
or so to Margarita's home. Undoubtedly many of you sail by it often,
but it is hidden from you by the rise of the ground, the high rocks
and the great, ancient-looking wall that I helped to pile. These and
the reefs protect it quite sufficiently. And I do not want you there.
It would prove far too interesting a spot to jaded trippers and
trotters--and it is amazing how quickly your new countries grow jaded;
more eager for fresh scenes than old Japan herself, Nippon the
rice-blest, the imperishable, whence I send these words.

Be satisfied, then, to know that in the direction of this torn
envelope Roger held the clew to Margarita's nameless home. Yes, the
young woman had sold her the bag with the clothing and advised her to
put the banknotes in it. No, she did not know her name. She smelled
good--like the young man who advised Broadway.

"Come, Margarita," said Roger gravely, "let us see when you can
start," and she followed him submissively to the wicket, matched her
stride to his on his discovery that a train which would take them half
way was just about to start, and ran beside him to the steps of the
car. He motioned to her to mount and she did so, turning at the top of
the steps with a face of sudden terror.

"You are not going to leave me, Roger Bradley?" she cried, "where am I
going?"

"Certainly I shall