a guard would be too conspicuous and might invite trouble; he himself
would bear him company.

The hot January day was reflected from the red streets, white houses,
and waxen leaves of the tropical foliage with enervating force. An
occasional ex-convict sullenly lounged by, touching his cap as he was
required by law; a native here and there leaned idly against a house-wall
or a magnolia tree; ill-looking men and women loitered in the shade. A
Government officer went languidly by in full uniform--even the Governor
wore uniform at all times to encourage respect--and the cafes were
filling. Every hour was "absinthe-hour" in Noumea, which had improved on
Paris in this particular. A knot of men stood at the door of the Cafe
Voisin gesticulating nervously. One was pointing to a notice posted on
the bulletin-board of the cafe announcing that all citizens must hold
themselves in readiness to bear arms in case the rumoured insurrection
among the natives proved serious. It was an evil-looking company who
thus discussed Governor Rapont's commands. As the two passed in,
Shorland noticed that one of the group made a menacing action towards
Alencon Barre.

Gabrielle was talking to an ex-convict as they entered. Her face looked
worn; there was a hectic spot on each cheek and dark circles round the
eyes. There was something animal-like about the poise of the head and
neck, something intense and daring about the woman altogether. Her
companion muttered between his teeth: "The cursed English spy!"

But she turned on him sharply: "Go away, Gaspard, I have business. So
have you--go." The ex-convict slowly left the cafe still muttering.

"Well, Gabrielle, how are your children this morning? They look gloomy