A step was heard inside the café. The maiden, though she knew the step
was not Mazaro's, rose hastily, opened the nearest door, and
disappeared. She had barely closed it behind her when Galahad
Shaughnessy entered the apartment.

M'Hemecourt rose up, both surprised and confused.

"Good-evening, Munsher D'Himecourt," said the Irishman. "Munsher
D'Himecourt, I know it's against rules--I say, I know it's against rules
to come in here, but"--smiling,--"I want to have a private wurd with ye.
I say, I want to have a private wurd with ye."

In the closet of bottles the maiden smiled triumphantly. She also wiped
the dew from her forehead, for the place was very close and warm.

With her father was no triumph. In him sadness and doubt were so mingled
with anger that he dared not lift his eyes, but gazed at the knot in the
wood of the table, which looked like a caterpillar curled up.

Mazaro, he concluded, had really asked the Major to come.

"Mazaro tol' you?" he asked.

"Yes," answered the Irishman. "Mazaro told me I was watched, and
asked"--

"Madjor," unluckily interrupted the old man, suddenly looking up and
speaking with subdued fervor, "for w'y--iv Mazaro tol' you--for w'y you
din come more sooner? Dad is one 'eavy charge again' you."