white and blue, with fancy waist-belts, and rings in their
ears. A procession of black-garbed monks wends slowly along; they have
come from the silence of the Armenian convent over there at the horizon.
Some wandering minstrels shoot their gondola into the mouth of the
canal, and strike up a gay waltz, while they watch the shaded balconies
above. Here is a Lascar ashore from the big steamer that is to start for
Alexandria on the morrow. A company of soldiers, with blue coats, canvas
trousers, and white gaiters, half march and half trot along to the
quick, crackling music of the buglers. A swarthy-visaged maiden, with
the calm brow of a Madonna, appears in the twilight of a balcony, with a
packet of maize in her hand, and in a minute or two she is surrounded
with a cloud of pigeons. Then this beggar--a child of eight or
ten--red-haired and blue-eyed: surely she has stepped out of one of
Titian's pictures? She whines and whimpers her prayers to him; but there
is something in her look that he has seen elsewhere. It belongs to
another century.

From these reveries Mr. Gathorne Edwards was aroused by some one tapping
him on the shoulder. It was Calabressa.

"My dear Monsieur Edouarts," said he, in a low voice--for the red-haired
little beggar was still standing there expectant--"he has gone over to
the shipping-place. We must follow later on. Meanwhile, regard this
letter that has just been forwarded to me. Ah, you English do not forget
your promises!"

Edwards threw a piece of money to the child, who passed on. Then he
took the letter and read it. It was in French.

* * * * *

"Dear Calabressa,--I want you to tell me what you have done with Yakov
Kirski. They seem unwilling to say here, and I do not choose to inquire
further. But I undertook to look after him, and I understood he was
getting on very well, and now you have carried him off. I hope it is
with no intention of allowing him to go back to Russia, where he will
simply make an attempt at murder, and fall into the hands of the police.
Do not let the poor devil go and make a fool of himself. If you want
money to send him back to England, show this letter, or forward it to
Messrs. ----, who will give you what you want.

"Your friend, George Brand.

"P.S.--I have seen your beautiful caged little bird. I can say no more
at present, but that she shall not suffer through any neglect of mine."

* * * *