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Here's

money for

you. Come;

lend it to

me. I am a

great

violinist.""Vraiment,

monsieur!"

"Ah!

Vraiment!

Voyons!

Donnez--un

instant--vous

verrez."The

fiddler,

doubting

but

hypnotized,

handed him

the

fiddle;

his dark

face

changed

when he

saw this

stranger

fling it

up to his

shoulder

and the

ways of

his

fingers

with bow

and

strings.

Fiorsen

had begun

to walk up

the

street,

his eyes

searching

for the

flower-boxes.

He saw

them,

stopped,

and began