Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-02-11

nave SnOU Till WITHOUT SlIdllO1l III TIC lldu.
His pitiful bayonet was useless against their
firearms he did not care. Either way
he was doomed.
The Arab chained him, made some brutal
joke to his companions about stealing the
vultures' breakfast, remOunted, and the
riders started off-not slowly.
Belmont reeled behind, at the end of the
chain. He thought of nothing now but keep
ing his feet. He must not fall, he told him
self feebly-he must not fall, or he would be
dragged. He did not care whether he lived
or died; but he did not want to be dragged.
CHAPTER III. The Price
DERDITA, of the cafe, had not yet come
to a decision when late the following
afternoon The Shoulder silently entered. He
saw that at once, and smiled sardonically.
"The price is too heavy?" he asked softly.
The girl stared at him, hatred plain in her
eyes. Il do not know" she answered simply.
II can help you to decide" said the man
from the Village Negro. "Look upon those
look well, for the thing in rags which is
chattering to itself like an ape is-Belmont!"
He pointed to group of horsemen that
were coming along the street. He had timed
his visit well.
blood drained slowly from her face as she
stared. Despite his rags, his unshaved chin,
his drawn and CHASTITY face, and his aimless
muttering, she recognized the man she loved.
"A-ah!" she said, in long drawn whisper of
pity and tenderness. For full minute after
there was silence Perdita kept her face away
from the man standing beside her, clenching
her hands, gazing stonily at the shambling
wreck that plodded along behind the horses
of the Arabs, chained like a tired dog.
The Shoulders evil little Singer sounded
at her shoulder as the group turned corner,
and the brown hand of the Spanish girl stole
to her bosom. Never was The Shoulder
nearer death than at that moment. But
he touch of the concealed dagger seemed
to calm her. 1t was not yet time for the dag
ger. The anger and misery died out from
her beautiful face, and she turned, smiling
as she rarely smiled. She had made her de-
cision at last.
a pay your price!" she said, and her smile
was perilously sweet. II pay!"
The man stared long into her glowing eyes,
long and searchingly, as though he would see
to her very heart.
@For the sake of that gibbering thing?" he
said amazed, even though he had expected
her to yield at sight of Belmont.
But she shook her head. mo, no." she
said. a pay it little because of the man
l once loved, not for the man he has changed
into But perhaps pay the price most of all
for the man l love now" Her voice was
languorous and subtle and it sounded true,
even to the man from the Street of Seven
Delights.
He seized her roughly. as that true?
Do not play with me-do not lie to mel"
He glared into her eyes again, trembling with
passion, yet still suspicious. His grip tight
ened upon her Listen to me, Perdita!" he
said in sort of whispered roar. @If you are
acting, if you lie, shall know before many
days-and l will so deal with you that the
dogs of the Village Negre shall in the end
feed full upon you.
She smiled, leaning full to him. why
should lie?" she whispered. Get that cold
Englishman his release-and see if | lie!'
The suspicious of the man vanished. II
believe" he said hoarsely and drew her to
him. They kissed, sealing their compact,
and The Shoulder was satisfied
But the lips of Perdita the coffee seller
were cold-they were cold for all their glow
ing color And no art of hers nor kiss of any
man but Belmont could warm them.
The Shoulder stood back, breathing deep.
"You will be my wife," he asked, as though
to reassure himself.
"When the Englishnan is pardoned-
yes" she said.
The man from the Village Negre thought