tinct husbands, all of whom retained their places as heads of
departments at the chateau, proving that courtship had not been confined
to the white people during the closing days of the siege.

The head of the bank was Oscar Arnheimer, Mr. Bowles having been deposed
because his methods were even more obsolete than his coat of armour.
Selim disposed of his lawful interest in the corporation to Ben Ali, the
new Cadi, and was waiting to accompany his master to America. It may be
well to add that the deal did not include the transfer of Neenah. She
was not for sale, said Selim to Ben Ali.

It was of Mr. Bowles that the three persons were talking as they stood
in the evening glow.

"Yes, Selim," said the tall man in flannels, "he's a sort of old dog
Tray--ever faithful but not the right kind. You don't happen to know
anything of old dog Tray, do you? No? I thought not. Nor you, Neenah?
Well, he was----"

"Was he the one who was poisoned at the chateau, excellency?" asked
Neenah timidly.

"No, my dear," he replied soberly. "If I remember my history, he died in
the seventeenth century or thereabouts. It's really of no consequence,
however. Any good, faithful dog will serve my purpose. What I want to
impress upon you is this: it is most difficult for a faithful old dog to
survive a change of masters. It isn't human nature--or dog nature,
either. I'm glad that you are convinced, Neenah--but please don't tell
Sahib Bowles that he is a dog."

"Oh, no, excellency!" she cried earnestly.

"She is very close-mouthed, sahib," added Selim, with conviction.

"We'll take Bowles to England with us next week," went on Chase
dreamily. "We'll leave Japat to take care of itself. I don't know which
it is in most danger of, seismic or Semitic disturbances."

He lighted a fresh cigarette, tenderly fingering it before applying the
match.

"I'll smoke one of hers to-night, Selim. See! I keep them apart from the
others, in this little gold case. I smoke them only when I am thinking.
Now, run in and tell Mr. Bowles that I said he was a Tray. I want to be
alone."

They left him and he threw himself upon the green sod, his back to a
tree, his face toward the distant chateau. Hours afterward the faithful
Selim came out to tell him that it was bedtime. He found his master
still sitting there, looking across the moonlit flat in the direction of
a place in the hills where once he had dwelt in marble halls.

"Selim," he said, arising and layi