Dinner, served on the brink of a chasm from which rose the mutter of the racing stream, was a gay meal. Runtu had vanished, and did not reappear until after nightfall, when Maria-Teresa met him near her tent. He was very apologetic, and, hat in hand, excused himself for the incident in the train. He had had no intention of being rude, and knowing that the Marquis was a great friend of the manager of the Franco-Belgian bank, he hoped that he would not carry the matter further.
Maria-Teresa, conquering a strong desire to laugh, promised the descendant of the Incas that he would not lose his clerkship through them. When he had bowed himself out of sight, she carried the story to her father and Dick, who were vastly amused. Then they all went to bed, with the exception of Uncle Francis, who passed the greater part of the night putting his notes in order and writing an article for a reverend monthly in which he re-told the story of the conquest of Peru, with the aid of the Last of the Incas. This Indian he sketched as a gloriously picturesque character, carefully omitting to say that he wore European clothes!
As every night since the appearance of the three strange heads on her balcony Maria-Teresa found sleep with difficulty. To-night, though tired by the journey, she tossed restlessly
