fool,” replied Milo slowly. He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, turned her around to face the faint light remaining, and gazed hard into her bright eyes. “Thou art not a fool, little one. But Sancho — is it so simple to find him?”

“Big, childish Milo!” she cried with a laugh that had no joy in it. “Dost think I feared that verdict of Dolores? No. I fear her whip only. My flesh creeps even now at thought of my poor shoulders hadst thou not appeared in time. Sancho? Pah! I can find him easily enough.”

“Then, child, was there nothing in thy traffic with him save what I heard from thy lips?”

Pascherette looked down, tapping the sand with her tiny foot, and her breast fluttered in agitation.