Today's Stichomancy for Colin Powell

the middle of a sentence; but from his last gesture, I understood that the fatal key would be my passport in his mother's house. It troubled him that he was powerless to utter a single word to thank me, for of my wish to serve him he had no doubt. He looked wistfully at me for a moment, then his eyelids drooped in token of farewell, and his head sank, and he died. His death was the only fatal accident caused by the overturn.

"But it was partly his own fault," the coachman said to me.

At La Charite, I executed the poor fellow's dying wishes. His mother was away from home, which in a manner was fortunate for me. Nevertheless, I had to assuage the grief of an old woman-

wept as they took off and folded up my silk garments and clad me in this beggar's garb."

"But your skin is so soft and fair, not at all like the skin of a woman exposed to the sun; and your black, shiny hair is not at all rusty and dirty like the hair of a beggar woman. I should think these facts would have caused your detection," I urged.

"That was easily remedied. We stained our faces, necks, hands and arms, and we took down our hair and literally rolled it in dust which the servants brought from the street. Oh! but it was nasty! such an odour! It was only the saving of the life of that faithful slave that could have induced me to do it. I had to take

direct, his smile frequent and fleeting. He observed Lingard with great interest. He was attracted by that elusive something--a line, a fold, perhaps the form of the eye, the droop of an eyelid, the curve of a cheek, that trifling trait which on no two faces on earth is alike, that in each face is the very foundation of expression, as if, all the rest being heredity, mystery, or accident, it alone had been shaped consciously by the soul within.

Now and then he bent slightly over the slow beat of a red fan in the curve of the deck chair to say a few words to Mrs. Travers, who answered him without looking up, without a modulation of tone

The Rescue