Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-05-15

The Consul was getting to his feet now with
deliberation that any who knew him would
have regarded as menaCing; but the Moor
rushed without realization.
90 1t made no difference to me that she went
about unchaperoned in Paris. thing that is
against all European ethics"
A big form shot forward with furious jump
and a snarng "Ah-h!" there was sharp
smack, and the Consuls fist struck him full in
the mouth. knocking him back as if thrown
through the air. to fall Crumpled at the foot OF
one of the columns dividing the apartment.
The Westerner stood quivering and his hand
fumbled around his hip where in other years
he had carried more deadly arbiter of dis
putes. He seemed about to jump again and
rain blows on the Moor, who was dizzily str1v-
ing to regain his feet.
From the outer door another figure leaped
in stepped in front of him, and held up both
hands. 1t was the Kaid.
Stop! he entreated Stop
The Consul thrust him aside; but. small
he was, Clarke determinedly grappled with
him. Stop sir beg of you! You forget
while-it isn't right! Stop. say!"
The American hestated and halted with his
hands .clenching and unclenchng if longing
to strange. and his eyes like two sharp points
of vicious light Thanks" he said. recover
ing himself. and then stretched long trembling
finger at the visitor, who wiping his face
with his handkerchief.
Buhamme you scrub he said, and his
voice had lost all of its old drawing tone and
was cold, hard. and incisve, you We got two
things to be thankful fort First that | don't
kill you. I've killed other men for less. Sec
ond, that the man my girl is engaged to be
married to, Captain Dick Whitney, doesn't
know what YOU We said or he'd get you if he
had to follow and drag your heart out at the
foot of an altar in one of your dirty mosques.
Now get! And if ever you come here again. If
ever you speak to my daughter or to me, I'll
finish what | started to do!
The Moor turned. and, with look of
speakable insult and unforgiving hatred.
eyes swept over the Kaid with a world of
malevOlence. and vet there was nothing in his
going to betOken fear.
The Consul stepped after and watched him
until he had passed through the gate, and then
called TO the porter at the entrance, That
man is never to be admitted here again.
STILL garing, and with his eyebrows drawn
- into heavy scowl. he whirled on his heels
and looked at Kaid Hamilton Clarke, who
leaning with his back against the wall, his face
very white, and holding behind him his hands.
the nails Of his fingers being dug deeply into
his palms. They looked squarely into each
others eyes. and the Consul's expression
changed to one of perplexity.
'Why-why, what's the matter. boy?" he
asked solicitously. Did he hurt you?
No. Mr.. Marshall" the Kaid answered
slowly drawing his arms out and pulling him.
self together. " He didn't hurt me. Im-1m
all right. Only bit under the weather,
think. I'm-Im-''
He stopped. did not finish. and then walked
over to chair. grown suddenly less buoyant
and appearing mysteriously aged. He dropped
back into the seat listlessy and fixed his eyes
on the tile at his feet, while the Hon. Bob
lifted his eyebrows and stared at him anx-
iously. He made another effort to speak.
moistened his lips. and then in his usual level
voice remarked:
'Ah! l didn't know that Miss Charlotte
and the Captain were betrothed. Really must
congratulate them. Fine girl that! Fine fell
low. Very worthy fellow. I'm sure
The Hon. Bob dragged chair out to the
veranda. fumbled in his pocket for a cigar.
lighted it with fingers that still trembled.
lifted his long legs up until his boot heels rested
on the marble rail- and then expressed his
opinion in emphatic terms of Buhammei and
everything Moorish, from the boat landing at
Tangier to the Sultans delays. He had no
response from the quiet figure at his side. and
when he peered in that direction in the deep
ening twilight he that the adventurer, the
General of an army, the trusted confidant of the
Sultan, the most powerful factor in the affairs
of Morocco. was leaning forward dejectedly
like a broken, hopeless old man, with his ell
bows on his knees and his chin resting on his
clasped hands. Moreover. he half surmised
that nothing of what he had been saying had
penetrated to the mind of kad Hamilton
Clarke, whose eyes were fixed in dull vacancy
out into hopeless spaces where all was suddenly
blank and uninviting.