n very good
care to disabuse no one of the idea, but had rather been at some pains
to create such an impression.

For her it was the best protection, and kept her free from the insults
and attentions of other men.

Bouquets and jewellery he was willing that she should receive; they did
no harm and the latter could always be sold.

In cold and dispassionate argument he explained to the irate Manager
the folly of ruining good material by injudicious use.

"You pay her as little as you can considering she is a draw. She does
the work of three people, including keeping the books when you are not
in a condition to wrestle with arithmetic. If you had your way she
would be cleaning out the stables."

"Bah!" sneered the other. "It would do her good--take the devil out of
her--hard work doesn't hurt that type. She's all wire and whipcord,
your She-Wolf, Poleski. Has she been snarling at you?"

"You'd better give her a week off," proceeded Emile, unmoved. "The
audience will be getting tired of her if you're not careful; she has
been on too long without a break. Get a fresh _artiste_ and take it
out of her salary. I shall give her a week's cruise round the harbour
and see what that will do."

"Well, try and put a little flesh on her bones," said the Manager
rudely. "I never saw such lean flanks! She's got the expression of a
death's head. It's a good thing the Spanish don't care for cheerful
grins or she wouldn't be here two days."

And so it came to pass that on the following Sunday Arithelli found
herself sitting on the deck of a yacht anchored far out in the harbour,
with the shores of Barcelona only a faint outline in the distance.

They had come aboard the previous day.

Emile had made her no explanations beyond saying that he was going to
take her for a sea trip, and after her custom she had asked no
questions.

The yacht, which was an uncanny looking craft, painted black and called
"_The Witch_," she knew by reputation, and had often seen it slipping
into the harbour after dusk. It was the property of two Russian
aristocrats, friends of Emile's, who helped the Cause by conveying
bombs and infernal machines, and taking off such members of the band as
had suddenly found Spain an undesirable residence.

Arithelli was not in the least interested in either of the men, the
dark, handsome, saturnine Vladimir, or the fair-haired, pretty,
effeminate youth to whom he was comrade and hero.

But she liked t