His eyes met hers without other token of recognition than a slight twinkle of amusement.
"Mademoiselle wishes to enter? Ten sous, if you please." And then with a loud voice directed over her head, "Entrez, Messieurs et Dames, and see the hand to hand struggle between a man and a savage beast! A contest at once magnificent and appalling—one which you will remember to the end of your days, a spectacle to describe to your children and to your children's children—"
[Illustration: "Philidor had felt rather than seen the figure which had slowly wedged through the crowd.">[
"John Markham!" Olga's voice sounded shrilly in English. "Stop howling at once and listen to me."
"Oui, Mademoiselle, ten sous, if you please. The performance is about to begin and—"
"This performance has been going on quite long enough. What on earth are you doing here in Alençon?"
"Barking," said Markham with a grin. "Also doing crayon portraits at two francs fifty a head," and he pointed to the sign beside the poster of Cleofonte breaking the chains which advertised the nature of his talents in glowing terms. "My name is Philidor, Mademoiselle," bowing; "itinerant portrait painter—at your service."
"Oh, do stop that nonsense and explain—"
"There's nothing to explain. Here I am. That's all."
"How did you get here—to Alençon?"