be worse-a kine in worlt; but, Senor, _I_"--

M. D'Hemecourt made a majestic sign for silence. He had resumed his
chair, but be rose up once more, took the Cuban's hat from the table and
tendered it to him.

"Manuel Mazaro, you 'ave"--

"Senor, I goin' tell you"--

"Manuel Mazaro, you"--

"Boat-a Senor"--

"Bud, Manuel Maz"--

"Senor, escuse-a me"--

"Huzh!" cried the old man. "Manuel Mazaro, you ave deceive' me! You 'ave
_mocque_ me, Manu"--

"Senor," cried Mazaro, "I swear-a to you that all-a what I sayin'
ees-a"--

He stopped aghast. Galahad and Pauline stood before him.

"Is what?" asked the blue-eyed man, with a look of quiet delight on his
face, such as Mazaro instantly remembered to have seen on it one night
when Galahad was being shot at in the Sucking Calf Restaurant in St.
Peter Street.

The table was between them, but Mazaro's hand went upward toward the
back of his coat-collar.

"Ah, ah!" cried the Irishman, shaking his head with a broader smile and
thrusting his hand threateningly into his breast; "don't ye do that!
just finish yer speech."

"Was-a notthin'," said the Cuban, trying to smile back.

"Yer a liur," said Galahad.

"No," said Mazaro, still endeavoring to smile through his agony; "z-was
on'y tellin' Senor D'Hemecourt someteen z-was t-thrue."

"And I tell ye," said Galahad, "ye'r a liur, and to be so kind an' get
yersel' to the front stoop, as I'm desiruz o' kickin' ye before the
crowd."

"Madjor!" cried D'Hemecourt--

"Go," said Galahad, advancing a step toward the Cuban.

Had Manuel Mazaro wished to personate the prince of darkness, his
beautiful face had the correct expression for it. He slowly turned,
opened the door into the cafe, sent one glowering look behind, and
disappeared.

Pauline laid her hand upon her lover's arm.

"Madjor," began her father.

"Oh, Madjor and Madjor," said the Irishman; "Munsher D'Hemecourt, just
say 'Madjor, heer's a gude wife fur ye,' and I'll let the little serpent
go."

Thereupon, sure enough, both M. D'Hemecourt and his daughter, rushing
together, did what I have been hoping all along, for the reader's sake,
they would have dispensed with; they burst into tears; whereupon the
Major, with his Irish appreciation of the ludicrous, turned away to hide
his smirk and began good-humoredly to scratch himself first on the
temple and then on the thigh.

Mazaro passed silently through the group about the door-steps, and not
many minutes