Part 39 (2/2)

'Do you?' I counter-questioned.

'Well! mebbe I'm mistook, but he looks the very moral of the furrin feller 'at changed that money for Camp and gave him counterfeits!' She half rose. 'I'm goin' to ask,' she explained.

'Stop!' I caught her hand. 'You must not! Leave it to me; I'll find out.'

I was too full of my own thoughts to enjoy Cairo after that, and was glad when we set out to visit the Temple of Luxor. I wanted to get away and to see Dave Brainerd.

It was half an hour after our experience in the place of rugs, and we were nearing the Temple, when we were forced to a stand by the approach of the wedding procession, with its camels and brazen gongs, its dancers, fighters, musicians, etc. As we stood, pressed close against a wall, someone came swiftly across the narrow way, dodging between two camels, and greeted us with effusion.

It was Monsieur Voisin, and when the parade had pa.s.sed and we moved on, he placed himself beside Miss Ross, who at once presented him to Mrs. Camp.

In accordance with her notion of strict etiquette, that good woman put out her hand to him in greeting; and when the formality was over, the way being narrow and the crowd dense, I fell behind with her at my side, Miss Ross having been taken possession of by the cool Frenchman.

For some paces Mrs. Camp, contrary to her custom, was quite silent.

Then as we approached the Temple, the others having already entered, she stopped and caught me by the arm.

'Say,' said she, in a tone of mystery, 'I must 'a' been mistaken before about that feller in that house bein' the counterfeit-money man.'

'Why?' I demanded.

'Because, d'ye remember my tellin' you 'bout that feller havin' sech long slim hands?' I nodded. 'Well, this feller ahead there with Miss Ross--he's the one. I'd swear to them hands anywhere.' I stopped just long enough to speak a few words of caution, and we followed the others.

Late that night I said to Dave Brainerd: 'Dave, I have seen the brunette, Greenback Bob, and Delbras.'

CHAPTER XXVIII.

'NOW DOWN!'

Miss Jenrys went faithfully to the post-office in the Government Building the day after our visit to Midway, and the next, and the next. On the fourth day she was rewarded, and when I appeared at her door, as I did every day now, by appointment, and at a fixed hour, she put a square envelope into my hand. It was addressed to 'J. J., World's Fair P.O.,' and the seal was unbroken.

I looked at the initials in surprise. 'Is it possible,' I asked, 'that you two have not exchanged names? Has it always been J. J. and H. A.?'

'Quite so,' she laughed. 'It was her proposal. It would keep up the romance of the acquaintance, she said,' and as I held out the envelope toward her, 'No, that is your letter; I have no interest in it, and little curiosity concerning it.'

'Then,' said I, as I broke the seal, 'I shall read it to you because of that little.'

But when I had unfolded the sheet, I sat so long staring at it that she asked lightly: 'Does it contain a scent, after all?' I put the letter in her hand. 'Read for yourself,' I said, trying to speak carelessly; and she read aloud:

'”MY KIND FRIEND,

'”I much regret that, because of my mamma's illness, I cannot leave her for the present. But at the first moment of leisure I shall let you know that I am at your service. How much I regret the loss of your charming company, and long for a sight of your charming face, is only known to yours,

'”H. A.'

'Bah!' She tossed the letter back to me with a little disdainful laugh. 'It reads like a love-letter, and is anything but filial.' As I folded the letter and put it carefully away, she watched me keenly.

'Mr. Masters,' she said, 'you have been in some unaccountable manner startled, or shocked, by that letter.'

<script>