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The shiny, grayish mauve gown and the white-trimmed bonnet were close
to him. Between them he faintly perceived a widely smiling face, and
from this face broke at once a sickly torrent of speech, half
Neapolitan dialect, half bastard French.
"Silenzio!" Artois said, sternly.
The old harridan stopped in surprise, showing her tooth.
"What has become of Peppina?"
"Maria Santissima!" she ejaculated, moving back a step in the
darkness.
She paused. Then she said:
"You know Peppina!"
She came forward again, quite up to him, and peered into his face,
seeking there for an ugly truth which till now had been hidden from
her.
"What had you to do with Peppina?"
"Nothing. Tell me about her, and--"
He put his hand to the inside pocket of his coat, and showed her the
edge of a little case containing paper notes. The woman misunderstood
him. He knew that by her face, which for the moment was as a battle-
field on which lust fought with a desperate anger of disappointment.


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