"So she is French," murmured Jennings to himself.

"Ah, non; by no means," cried the Frenchman unexpectedly.
"She no French. She Englees--yis--I remembers. A ver'
fine and big demoiselle. She wish to come out at de opera.
But she too large--mooch too large. Englees--yis--La
Juive."

"A Jewess?" cried Jennings in his turn.

"I swear to you, mon ami. Englees Jewess, mais oui! For ten
months she dance here, tree year gone. Zen zee orange peels
and pouf! I see her no mores. But never dance--no--too
large, une grande demoiselle."

"Do you know where she came from?"

"No. I know nozzin' but what I tell you."

"Did you like her?"

Le Beau shrugged his shoulders. "I am too old, mon ami. Les
femmes like me not. I haf had mes affairs--ah, yis.
Conceive--" and he rattled out an adventure of his youth
which was more amusing than moral.

But Jennings paid very little attention to him. He was
thinking that Maraquito-Celestine was a more mysterious woman
than he had thought her. While Jennings was wondering what
use he could make of the information he had received, Le Beau