"Yes, it"s _sweetly_ pretty," the voice was saying irresolutely, "but I don"t think I _quite_ care to--not at _that_ price."
"I--I will buy it for you--yes?" said another voice. "It is made for you--so "sweetly pretty" as you say."
Billy turned. A slim, tall girl in a dark blue frock was standing before a counter of Oriental jewelry, her head turned, with an air of startled surprise, to the man on the other side of her who had just spoken. He was a short, stout, blond man, heavily flushed, showily dressed, with a fulsome beam in his light-blue eyes and an ingratiating grin beneath his upturned straw-colored mustaches.
The girl turned her head away toward the shop-keeper and put back the turquoise-studded buckle she held in her hand. "No, I do not care for it," she said in a steady voice whose coldness was for the intruder and turned away.
Billy had a glimpse of scarlet cheeks and dark lashed eyes before the blond young man again took his attention.
"You do not like it--no?" he said, blocking her path, his face thrust out to smile into hers. "But I buy you anything you wish--I make you one present----"
The girl gave a quick look about. But she was in a pocket; for there was no other exit to that line of shops but the path he was blocking. All about her the dark-skinned venders and shoppers, the bearded men, the veiled women, the impish urchins, were watching the encounter with beady eyes of malicious interest.
Billy took a quick step forward and touched the man on the arm. "Let this lady pa.s.s, please," he said.
The German confronted him with blood-shot blue eyes that ceased to smile and clearly welcomed the belligerency.
"Gott! Who are you?" he derided. "Get out--get out the way."
"Get out yourself," said Billy, and stepping in front of the fellow he extended a rigid arm, leaving a pa.s.sage for the girl behind him.
"Oh, thank you," he heard her say, and as he half turned his head at the grateful murmur he felt a sudden staggering blow on the side of his face. He whirled about, on guard, and as the man struck again, lunging heavily in his intoxication, Billy knocked up the fist as it came.
"You silly fool!" he said impatiently, and as the man made a blind rush upon him he caught him and by main force flung him off, but his own foot struck something slippery and he lurched and went down, with a wave of intense disgust, into the dirt of the bazaars. He heard a chorus of cries and imprecations about him; he jumped up instantly, looking for his a.s.sailant, but the German was clinging to the front of the jewelry booth. "Meet you--satisfaction--honor," he was saying stupidly.
A native policeman elbowed his way through the throng, urging some Arabic question upon Billy, who caught its import and replied with the few sentences of rea.s.surance at his command, pointing to the banana peel as the cause of all. A fat dragoman had suddenly appeared from nowhere and was hurriedly attempting to lead away the intoxicated one.
"You in charge of him? Take him to his hotel and throw him in the tub," said Billy curtly, and the dragoman replied with profound respect that he would do even as the heaven-born commanded.
Brushing off his clothes Billy shouldered his way out of the throng and was met by two bright and grateful eyes and a slim, bare, outstretched hand.
"Thank you _so_ much--I am _so_ sorry," said the musical voice.
"You shouldn"t have waited," said Billy, with a prompt pressure of the friendly little hand. "It might have been a real row."
"I couldn"t run away," she said in serious protest at such ingrat.i.tude. "I had to see what happened to you. And I am so sorry about your clothes."
"Not hurt a particle--I chose a fortunate place to drop," he returned lightly, but distinctly chagrined that he _had_ dropped.
"It was so fine of you," she answered, "just to parry him like that--when he"d been drinking. I saw what you did." And then she added, very matter-of-factly, "And I"m afraid your nose is bleeding, too."
Billy put up a startled hand. In the general soreness he had not noticed that warm trickle. His whole face turned as scarlet as the shameless blood. Frantically he rummaged with the other hand.
The girl thrust a square of white linen upon him. "Please take mine--it will ruin your clothes if it gets on them."
Her immense practicality refused to be embarra.s.sed in the least.
Feeling immensely foolish Billy accepted hers, but then he discovered his own handkerchief and stuffed hers away into his pocket.
"You"re a trump," he said heartily. "And it"s all right now--all but the swelling, I suppose." He sounded rueful. He had remembered his engagement for the evening.
Her head a little aslant, the girl regarded him critically. "N-no, it doesn"t seem to be swelling," she observed. "Of course it"s a little red but that will pa.s.s."
They were walking side by side out of the narrow street and now, on a crowded corner, they paused and looked around. "I left Miss Falconer at the Maltese laces," she murmured, and to the laces they turned their steps.
Miss Falconer was still bargaining. She was a middle aged lady, Roman nosed and sandy-haired, and she brought to Billy in a rush the realization that she was "sister" and the girl was Lady Claire Montfort. The story of the encounter and Billy"s hero part, related by Lady Claire, appeared most disturbing to the chaperon.
"How awkward--how very awkward," she murmured, several times, and Billy gathered from her covert glance upon him that part of the awkwardness consisted in being saddled with his acquaintance. Then, "Very nice of you, I"m sure," she added. "I hope the creature isn"t lingering about somewhere.... We"d better take a cab, Claire--I"m sure we"re late for tea."
"Let me find one," said Billy dutifully, and charging into the medley of vehicles he brought forth a victoria with what appeared to be the least villainous looking driver and handed in the ladies.
"Savoy Hotel, isn"t it?" he added thoughtlessly, and both ladies"
countenances interrogated him with a varying _nuance_ of question.
"I remember noticing you," he hastily explained. "I"m not exactly a private detective, you know,"--the a.s.surance seemed to leave Miss Falconer cold--"but I do remember people. And then I heard you spoken of by Miss Beecher."
The name acted curiously upon them. They looked at each other. Then they looked at Billy. Miss Falconer spoke.
"Perhaps we can drop you at your hotel," said she. "Won"t you get in?"
He got in, facing them a little ruefully with his damaged countenance, and subtly aware that this accession of friendliness was not a gush of airy impulse.
"You know Miss Beecher then?" said Miss Falconer with brisk directness.
"Slightly," he said aloud. To himself he added, "So far."
"Ah--in America?"
"No, in Cairo."
Miss Falconer looked disappointed. "But perhaps you know her family?"
"No," said Billy. He added humorously, "But I"ll wager I could guess them all right."
"Can you Americans do that for one another? That is more than we can venture to do for you," said the lady, and Billy was aware of irony.
"We know so little about your life, you see," the girl softened it for him, with a direct and friendly smile, and then gazed watchfully at her chaperon. She was a nice girl, Billy decided emphatically.
"How would you construct her family?" was the elder lady"s next demand.
"Oh, big people in a small town," he hazarded carelessly. "The kind of place where the life isn"t wide enough for the girl after all her "advantages" and she goes abroad in search of adventure."
"Adventure," repeated Miss Falconer thoughtfully. She seemed to have an idea, but Billy was certain it was not his idea.
He hastened to clarify the light he had tried to cast upon his upsetting little countrywoman. "All life, you know, is an adventure to the American girl," he generalized. "She is a little bit more on her own than I imagine your girls are," and for the fraction of a second his eyes wandered to the listening countenance of Lady Claire, "and that rather exhilarates her. And she doesn"t want things cut and dried--she wants them spontaneous and unexpected--and people, just as people, interest her tremendously. I think that"s why she"s so unintelligible on the Continent," he added thoughtfully. "They don"t understand there that girlish love of experience as experience--enjoyment of romance apart from results."
"Romance apart from results," repeated Miss Falconer in a peculiar voice.
"I don"t believe you quite get me," said Billy hastily. He felt foolish and he felt resentful. And if these English women couldn"t understand the bright, volatile stuff that Arlee was made of, he certainly was not going to talk about it. But Miss Falconer had one more question for him.