again, and a white knee appeared, just escaping a blue serge skirt. At
the third pull she was over and standing, bare-footed, by his side. It
had been a fairy leap. He marvelled at the lightness of her till he saw
her standing so, with merry eyes upraised to his. Then he laughed, for
she was laughing--the infectious laugh of the truant.

"Oh, thank you ever so much," she said. "I knew it was much nicer this
side than the other. No one can see us here, either."

"Is that why you wanted to get over?" he asked.

She nodded, her pink face all mystery. "It's nice to get away from
everyone sometimes, isn't it? Even Rosa Mundi thinks that. Did you know
that she is here? It is being kept a dead secret."

"Rosa Mundi!" Courteney started. He looked down into the innocent face
upraised to his with something that was almost horror in his own. "Do
you mean that dancing woman from Australia? What can a child like you
know of her?"

She smiled at him, the mystery still in her eyes. "I do know her. I
belong to her. Do you know her, too?"

A sudden hot flush went up over Courteney's face. He knew the woman;
yes, he knew her. Was it years ago--or was it but yesterday?--that he
had yielded to the importunities of his friend, young Eric Baron, and
gone to see her dance? The boy had been infatuated, wild with the lure
of her. Ah well, it was over now. She had been his ruin, just as she had
been the ruin of others like him. Baron was dead and free for ever from
the evil spell of his enchantress. But he had not thought to hear her