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I prompted Camille to ask if he had ever encountered Ned Ferry, and he laughed.

I almost leaped from the ground in consternation. My whole frame throbbed, my mouth fell open, my tongue was tied.

"One too modest," I murmured, "to know her own portrait." I clutched the braid emotionally and let it go intending to retake it; but she dropped it behind her and said I was too imaginative to be safe.

"Oh!--don't you wish you knew! Why, to myself, for instance. Come! duty calls."

"Come!" I echoed. We swung into the broader road and followed the contrabands.

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