Nodding affably to the proprietor, he sat down on the floor of a shop hard by and watched Amos.  The old man was evidently interested, for he was laughing pleasantly, and bending down to look at something on the ground.  What it was Gregorio could not see.  A knot of people, also laughing, surrounded the Jew.  Gregorio was curious to see what attracted them, but fearful of being recognised by the old man.  However, after a few moments his impatience mastered him, and he stepped up to the group.

“What is it?” he asked one of the bystanders.

“Only a baby.  It’s lost, I think.”

Gregorio pushed his way into the centre of the crowd and suddenly became white as death.

There, seated on the ground, was his own child, laughing and talking to himself in a queer mixture of Greek and Arabic.  Amos was bending kindly over the youngster, giving him cakes and sweets, and making inquiries as to the parents.

A chill fear seized on Gregorio’s heart.  He could not have explained the cause, nor did he stay and try to explain it.  Quickly he broke into the midst of the circle and, catching up the boy in his arms, ran swiftly away.

Having reached home, he kissed the boy passionately, sent for food to Madam Marx, and wept and laughed hysterically for an hour.  After a time the boy slept, and Gregorio then paced up and down the room, smoking, and puffing great clouds of smoke from his mouth, trying to calm himself.  But he could not throw off his excitement.  He imagined the awful home-coming had he not been to the bazaar, and he wondered what he would have done then.  A great joy possessed him to see his son safe, and a fierce desire filled him to know who had taken the child away.  He longed for Xantippe’s return that he might tell her.  He forgot completely that he had dreaded seeing her earlier this evening.  Then he began to wonder what Amos was doing at the fantasia, and why he was so interested in the boy.  Perhaps, Amos would forgive the debt for love of the child.  The idea pleased him, but he soon came to understand that it was untenable.  Oftener, indeed, he shuddered as he recalled the old man’s figure bent over the infant.  A sense of danger to come overwhelmed him.  In some way he felt that the old man and the child were to be brought together to work his, Gregorio’s, ruin.

Suddenly he heard a footstep on the stairs.  “Thank God!” he cried, as he ran to the door.

“Xantippe!”

But he recoiled as if shot, for as the door opened Amos entered.  The Jew bowed politely to the Greek, but there was an unpleasant twinkle in his eyes as he spoke.

“You cannot offer me a seat, my friend, so I will stand.  We have met already this evening.”

Gregorio did not answer, but placed himself between the Jew and the child.

“I dare say you did not see me,” the old man continued, quietly, “for you seemed excited.  I suppose the child is yours.  It was surely careless to let him stray so far from home.”