bizarre and evil figures of the Guignol that used to haunt my dreams in
childhood. Truly. And the tall one was Polichinelle, the image of a
gratuitous and uncomprehended wickedness.

"Well done, hireling," he observed, in the voice of a crow. "Well done
indeed! You are something of a craftsman too. A good beginning. And a
good subject, who is ripe to have the head shaved from his shoulders, I
should think.... Pray continue," he said. "Cut again and cut deeper!"

Thereupon I became aware he was addressing me, and with the most
pointed, the most sinister interest: and next I found myself still
holding the razor over Bibi-Ri's cheek where he had taken an ugly gash.
That big devil smiled and chuckled in intimate fashion at my red blade.
His eyes shone like topaz. Stupidly I followed their gaze. When I looked
up again ... the two outside were gone.

"Name of God!" I cried. "Who are those?"

Bibi-Ri had fallen back in his chair.

"The vultures!"

Well, I understood fast enough that I had made acquaintance of the
terrible M. de Nou. The other would be his aide and familiar, a former
Polish anarchist--I had heard--whom even the society of convicts
rejected and who bore the fit name: Bombiste. These were the dreaded
servants of the guillotine. But now they had passed I was bold as the
best: I could mock myself.

"Imbeciles!" I laughed. "To be scared by an old bogey like that! The
executioner? So be it. We can curse him and let him go.... Though in
truth he has a sickly notion of an afternoon call, the lascar! ... Sit
still while I plaster that sliced onion of yours."

But something had come upon Bibi-Ri. For once he gave me back no jest.

"The monster has marked me down! You heard him? It is a warning!" At
that he started up, all streaky with soap and blood as he was, and must
rush away on some errand. And then remembering it would be impossible to
run the police limits of Noumea before dark, collapsed again. "I am
lost!"

Figure my amazement.

"But how?" I demanded. "Does your blessed executioner have power to pick
his own victims?... Does he go about cropping heads, for example, like a
man in a flower garden? What can he make to you? ... Unless perhaps he
has come between you and that fair fortune I saw you pursuing so
ardently a moment ago."

The way his jaw dropped! As if I had touched the very spring of his
destiny.

Now you can guess that I knew perhaps a little--no matter how little--of
lawlessness and