interest to the watching conspirators than the melancholy foreigner himself. It was a small rectangular piece of paper, which the host was explaining to his companion.
The seafaring man moved his chair a little, and the oil-flare on the other side of the table cast a circle of light, a little paler than the paper itself, which was yellow with age. They saw that there were faint indications of outlines upon it.
The seafaring man studied it, looked up at the other's question, assumed a look of honest calculation. He then began a series of shrugs and gestures, thrusting his upheld fingers before the other's face, perhaps to indicate time or price. This was but the preliminary stage of the bargain, like the mimic sparring before the real bout begins. Through it all the prospective buyer sat in silence, his cigarette alternately paling or reddening through the ash with his inhalations. At last he spoke, with an air of finality, and they evidently got down to business. The gambler caught one or two French words,—francs and bateaux, whose meaning he had picked up on his travels.
Suddenly the incorrigible Carlotta who had been leaning forward, trying to decipher the paper, exclaimed:
"That's it. It's your phony island. Another map! Can you beat it! I didn't think there were other nuts loose in the world like you and Phil—m-m-m—I hope there aren't any squirrels loose on the island!"
"Keep quiet!" MacAllister meantime had cautioned, for her voice, almost raised to its usual pitch, sounded above the soft melodious flow of voices, as incongruously strident
