tle box. Why Madame de Nemours
endured his vagaries was indeed strange, for she was one who demanded of
every other domestic something of an over-obsequiousness in service. It
was a well-known fact, however, that he held an assured position in the
household, and that the Countess only smiled at his grimaces and
drinking, rewarding him with frequent gifts and holidays in the
country.

On the morning of Dermott's coming, Quantrelle the Red sat in his little
house peering out, monkeylike, expectantly, at the passers-by, and
craning his long neck to keep a constant eye on the corner around which
the Irishman was to arrive. As the brougham drew up to the curb the Red
One sprang to his feet, threw the iron doors wide apart, and stood
bowing double as McDermott entered.

"Ah, my Quantrelle!" he cried, gayly, at sight of the thin
grotesqueness. "Still in your old place; still taking care of madame!"

"Till the end," was the answer, with a serious note in the voice.

"You have not changed much in the three years since I saw you last,"
Dermott said, inspecting him closely.

"Nor you, monsieur," Quantrelle answered. "In fact, you have changed
little since twelve years ago, when I hid you and young Monsieur de
Chevanne on top of my box here, after some escapade, to keep you both
from the police." He scrutinized McDermott closely as he spoke. "And
it's not the money (which I know well you will give me anyhow) which
makes me say you are more beautiful than ever, monsieur. The same
elegant pallor; the same pursuit in the eye! Had I had your looks"; he
made a clucking sound in his cheek with his tongue; "and your clothes!
Always the blacks and grays and very elegant! They are not my colors,"
he drew himself to his straightest to exhibit his maroon coat and
trousers and wide green cravat with an assumed satisfaction; "but each
has his own style," he finished.

McDermott laughed. "You are sober, Quantrelle!"

"Distressingly so, monsieur!"

"And if I give you money you would use it for--" McDermott paused.

"Charity, monsieur," the Red One answered, his eyes drooped religiously.
He took the gold coin which Dermott gave him, tossed it into the
sunshine, and slipped it into his pocket with a bow. "You will notice, I
honor your integrity by not biting it to see if it be counterfeit."

"Knowing your character, it is indeed a compliment," McDermott said. "Au
revoir, my Quantrelle!"

"Au revoir, Monsieur l'Irlandais!"

And Dermot