Turk was waiting for him when he reached his rooms, and Turk was not
amiable. A very attractive, innocent and demure young lady, who
could not speak English except with her hands and eyes, had relieved
him of a stickpin and his watch while he sat with her at a table not
far from the man he was protecting with his vaunted "eagle eye."

"An' she swiped 'em right under me nose, an' me eyes square on her,
too. These people are too keen for me. They ain't a fairy in New
York that could 'a' touched me without d' dope, lemme tell you. I
t'ought I knowed a t'ing er two, but I don't know buttons from
fishhooks. I'm d' easiest t'ing 'at ever went to Sunday school."

It was with a flushed, rebellious face that Miss Garrison stepped
into the victoria the next afternoon for the drive to the Bois de la
Cambre. She had come from a rather trying tilt with her mother, and,
as they drove off between the rows of trees, she felt that a pair of
flaming eyes were levelled from a certain upstairs window in the
Avenue Louise. The Biblical admonition to "honor thy father and thy
mother" had not been entirely disregarded by this willful young
lady, but it had been stretched to an unusual limit for the
occasion. She felt that she was very much imposed upon by
circumstances in the shape of an unreasonable mother and an
inconvenient friend.

Mr. Quentin, more in love than ever, and more deeply inspired by the
longing to win where reason told him he must fail, did not flatter
himself into believing that Mrs. Garrison wholly approved of the
drive. Instead, he surmised from the beginning that Dorothy's
flushed cheeks were not from happiness, but from excitement, and
that he was not altogether a shadowy cause. With rare tact he