he wanted the child?
I met him that night, and he told me if I did not pay I had only myself
to blame for the trouble that would fall on me."

"Come, come, Gregorio, cheer up!" said the woman; for the Greek, with
head resting on his hands, was sobbing violently.

"I tell you, all I cared for in life is taken from me. But I will have
my revenge, that I tell you too."

For a while they sat silent, looking into the street. At last Gregorio
spoke:

"My wife has not returned since that night, has she?"

"I have not seen her."

"Well, I must see her; she can leave the Englishman now."

Madam Marx laughed a little, but said nothing.

"There is Ahmed," cried Gregorio, as a blue-clad figure passed on the
other side of the street. He beckoned to the Arab, who came across at
his summons.

"You seem troubled," he said, as he looked into the Greek's face; and
Gregorio retold the terrible story.

"You know nothing of all this?" he added, suspiciously, as his narrative
ended.

"Nothing."

"My God! it is so awful I thought all the world knew of it. You often
nursed and played with the boy?"

"Ay, and fed him. We Arabs love children, even Christian children, and I
will help you if I can."

"Why should Amos want the boy?" asked Madam Marx, as she put coffee and
tobacco before the guests.

"Because I owe him money, and he knew the loss of my son would be the
deadliest revenge. He will make my son a Jew, a beastly Jew. By God, he
shall not, he shall not!"

"We must find him and save him," said the woman.

"He will never be a Jew. That is not what Amos wants your son for; there
are plenty of Jews." Ahmed spoke quietly.

"They sacrifice children," he continued, after a moment's pause; "surely
you know that, and if you would save your boy there is not much time to
lose."

Gregorio trembled at Ahmed's words. He wondered how he could have
forgotten the common report, and his fingers grasped convulsively the
handle of his knife.

"Let us go to Amos," he said, speaking the words with difficulty, for he
was choking with fear for his son.

"Wait," answered the Arab; "I will come again to-night and bring some
friends with me, two men who will be glad to serve you. We Arabs are not
sorry to strike at the Jews; we have our own wrongs. Wait here till I
come."

"But what will you do?" asked Madam Marx, looking anxiously on the man
she loved, though her words were for the Arab.

"Gregorio will ask for his son. If the old