“That’s the second time she has hit me with one of those things,” he said, groping about his feet for the hat.  “Here, stop that boy with the basket!”

A vendor of the little rolls of paper ribbon was shouting his wares through the crowd.  Ste. Marie filled his pockets with the things, and when the lady with the blue hat came round, on the next turn, lassoed her neatly about the neck and held the end of the ribbon till it broke.  Then he caught a fat gentleman, who was holding himself on by his steed’s neck, in the ear, and the red-haired American girl laughed aloud.

“When the thing stops,” said Ste. Marie, “I’m going to take a ride—­just one ride.  I haven’t ridden a pig for many years.”

Hartley jeered at him, calling him an infant, but Ste. Marie bought more serpentines, and when the platform came to a stop clambered up to it and mounted the only unoccupied pig he could find.  His friend still scoffed at him and called him names, but Ste. Marie tucked his long legs round the pig’s neck and smiled back, and presently the machine began again to revolve.

At the end of the first revolution Hartley gave a shout of delight, for he saw that the lady with the blue hat had left her mount and was making her way along the platform toward where Ste. Marie sat hurling serpentines in the face of the world.  By the next time round she had come to where he was, mounted astride behind him, and was holding herself with one very shapely arm round his neck, while with the other she rifled his pockets for ammunition.  Ste. Marie grinned, and the public, loud in its acclaims, began to pelt the two with serpentines until they were hung with many-colored ribbons like a Christmas-tree.  Even Richard Hartley was so far moved out of the self-consciousness with which his race is cursed as to buy a handful of the common missiles, and the lady in the blue hat returned his attention with skill and despatch.

But as the machine began to slacken its pace, and the hideous wail and blare of the concealed organ died mercifully down, Hartley saw that his friend’s manner had all at once altered, that he sat leaning forward away from the enthusiastic lady with the blue hat, and that the paper serpentines had dropped from his hands.  Hartley thought that the rapid motion must have made him a little giddy, but presently, before the merry-go-round had quite stopped, he saw the man leap down and hurry toward him through the crowd.  Ste. Marie’s face was grave and pale.  He caught Hartley’s arm in his hand and turned him round, crying, in a low voice: 

“Come out of this as quickly as you can!  No, in the other direction.  I want to get away at once!”

“What’s the matter?” Hartley demanded.  “Lady in the blue hat too friendly?  Well, if you’re going to play this kind of game you might as well play it.”

“Helen Benham was down there in the crowd,” said Ste. Marie.  “On the opposite side from you.  She was with a party of people who got out of two motor-cars to look on.  They were in evening things, so they had come from dinner somewhere, I suppose.  She saw me.”