heel, and strode quickly up to Mr. Saffron. She watched him open the gate
and take the old gentleman by the arm; she heard the murmur of his voice
speaking soft accents as the pair walked up the path together. They
passed into the house, and the door was shut.

Mary stood where she was for a moment, then moved slowly, hesitatingly,
yet as though under a lure which she could not resist. Just outside the
gate lay something that gleamed white through the darkness. It was the
sheet of paper. Mr. Saffron had dropped it in his excitement, and
Beaumaroy had not noticed.

Mary stole forward and picked it up stealthily; she was incapable of
resisting her curiosity or even of stopping to think about her action.
She held it up to what light there was, and strained her eyes to examine
it. So far as she could see, it was covered with dots, dashes, lines,
queerly drawn geometrical figures--a mass of meaningless hieroglyphics.
She dropped it again where she had found it, and made off home with
guilty swiftness.

Yes, there had been, this time, a distinctly metallic ring in old Mr.
Saffron's voice.




CHAPTER X

THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO!