a smile. "We don't talk to the English
like that, Antonio,--not even the smallest and weakest of them. Let's
have a look at this specimen--with your permission!" He bent over the
huddled figure. "Hold up your head, boy! Let me see you!"

There was no movement to obey, and he laid a hand upon the quivering
shoulder and felt it shrink away convulsively.

"I believe you've damaged him," he said, bending lower. "Here, Tommy!
Hold up your head! Don't be afraid! It's a friend."

But the narrow figure only sank down a little lower under his hand.

"His name is Toby," said Antonio with acidity. "A dog's name, milord, and
it fits him well. He is what you would call a lazy hound."

Saltash paid not the slightest attention to him. He was bending low, his
dark face in shadow.

"Don't be afraid!" he said again. "No one is going to hurt you. Come
along! Let's look at you!"

His hold tightened upon the shrinking form. He began to lift it up.

And then suddenly there came a sharp struggle between his hands as
lacking in science as the fight of a wild animal for freedom, and as
effectual. With a gasping effort the boy wrenched himself free and was
gone. He went like a streak of lightning, and the two men were left
facing one another.

"What a slippery little devil!" commented Saltash.

"Yes," said Antonio vindictively, "a devil indeed, milord! And I will
have no more of him. I will have no more. I hope he will starve!"

"How awfully nice of you, Antonio!" said Saltash lightly. "Being the end
of the season, he probably will."

Antonio smacked his red lips with relish. "Ah, probably! Probably!" he
said.

CHAPTER II

ADIEU

It was growing late and the _fete_ was in full swing when Saltash
sauntered down again under the cypress-trees to the water's edge. The sea
was breaking with a murmurous splashing; it was a night for dreams.

In the flower-decked bandstand an orchestra of stringed instruments was
playing very softly--fairy-music that seemed to fill the world with magic
to the brim. It was like a drug to the senses, alluring, intoxicating,
maddeningly sweet.

Saltash wandered along with his face to the water on which a myriad
coloured lights rocked and swam. And still his features wore that
monkeyish look of unrest, of discontent and quizzical irony oddly
mingled. He felt the lure, but it was not strong enough. Its influence
had lost its potency.

He need not have been alone. He had left the hotel with fri