The Pulaskian., 1916-07-14
CHAPTER vI-contInued.

Richard Nameless turned back to the desert. The Arabs had risen and an elder was praying aloud, his aged, tremulous voice leading the richer uni son of the worshipers behind him.
 with my face to Mecca and with a sincere heart I offer my prayers to Allah"
 Mirage! For those dark-faced desert children Mecca opened the gates of Paradise; for this dream of unknown happiness they waited and prayed, and when their time came passed through the great shadow with fearless, trium- phant confidence.
 He went back to his work. With fierce, dogged energy he pulled away the deep-rooted weeds and brought a pathetic look of care and order into his corner of the wilderness. For mo- ment he fingered over the grave which Goetz had tended. The bald yet elo- quent inscription touched him. He wondered vaguely who Philip Grey had been; if he, too, had paid a price and in the last hours of horror had still been satisfied.
 Two women had entered the ceme- tery. Their white-clad figures flashed gayly In between the dark graves, and a clear, silvery laugh mingled with the final Arab prayer
 La Ilaha fila 'llahu!''
 The younger woman stopped an in- stant and pointed with the tip of her parasol at the broken remnant of a cross.
 Look at these beads! Aren't they ridiculous? And the inscription-just a number, like a convict's." She glanced back over her shoulder at her companion. Miss Smith, believe you are frightened. Do you think there are ghosts here? We'll, perhaps there are, but I don't mind"
 As yet the man standing immobile, hidden amid the forest of crosses, had escaped her notice But he had heard her now, and, shadowy and ghostlike enough in the dying light, awaited her approach. At the foot of the English mans grave she hesitated. The inscrip- ton attracted her. With puckered brows she spelled out the badly cut letters, her soft voice touched with just the faintest ironical interest.
 Philip Grey-No. 3112-Foreign Le- gion."
 Then she looked up involuntarily and saw the man who watched her, his hand gripping the head of the cross.
 It was very quiet now. The Arab prayer was silenced, and the white figures of the worshipers had vanished in the long olive grove leading back to Sidi-bel-Abbes. Sylvia Arnaud's voice, when she spoke at last, sounded strained and harsh in the absolute quiet.
 "Richard! and then again, Richard Farquharp'
 He shook his head. Not Richard Farquhar now," he answered. "Rich- ard Nameless."
 She seemed not to understand. Her lips were little parted in the ex- pression that he remembered. She looked piteously frightened and incred- ulouS.
 T am sorry to have frightened you," he said gently. ''I did not mean that you should ever see me-but you came so suddenly, and out in this desolate place you were the last person l ex- pected. Forgive me-"
 "Yes-yes, it is a desolate place-it makes me frightened. But was told it was something ought to see-and a few minutes ago wasn't frightened at all. Now-I see ghosts every where.''
 T am one of them" he said.
 She brushed her hand over her fore head as though indeed trying to dispel some terrifying specter. Her feeble effort to regain her previous laughing courage failsd. She was white and Trembling