For it was not her prettiness which had drawn his attention to the girl. It took no second glance to assure him that she was no countrywoman of his, but an American. Her features had the clean regularity, her complexion the pale, unfurrowed smoothness which is kept intact on the western side of the Atlantic and there alone. The Moroccan sunlight was proving in a dozen places the mistake the shadows made when they dulled the gold of her hair to brown. Her eyes matched the waters of the unrippled bay. Though he recognized these things, they had not, in the first place, attracted Aylmer's attention. American girls--pretty American girls--are no rarity in Tangier since Mr. Cook threw over Moghreb-al-Aksa the ægis of his protection. Under ordinary circumstances he would have looked, approved, and, without altering his stride, passed on. But here was something which appealed to the inherited instincts of a gentleman. What was it? Apprehension. He felt no reasonable doubt on the subject. Among this girl's natural attributes, he told himself, were placidity, content, self-reliance. The first two were wanting. The third was strained. There was almost a sense of furtiveness in the glances which she turned to throw not only about but, occasionally, behind her. Frankly, she was afraid. His interest fed upon observation. He glanced at her more narrowly, he observed her surroundings. He drew aside out of the mid-street traffic, and under pretence of lighting a cigarette, halted again in the shadow of an awning. She was not alone. She held by the hand a small, alert-looking child--a boy, who watched the passers-by with the happy, unconcentrated interest of childhood. His eyes reviewed his surroundings without any of the surprise of unaccustomedness; obviously the scene was not strange to him. He smiled at Jew and Moslem, Christian and Infidel, with a pleasant patronage which one or two itinerant pedlars and shop touts returned with obsequious affability. One man, indeed,--a bronzed, hawk-nosed specimen of the desert Arab clad in a ragged _djelab_ of brown,--laughed gaily, plucked a carnation from behind his ear, and flung it to his small admirer as he passed. The child gave a little cackle of delight as he picked it up. The girl looked down as he did so and frowned. "Who was that, Selim?" she asked quickly, and Aylmer saw that the question was addressed to a stout, muscular Moor who was in attendance. The man lifted his shoulders in deprecation and darted a suspicious glance towards the crowd which had already closed upon the _djelab_ of brown. "Some desert dog," he answered sullenly. "But indeed Sidi Jan encourages all the rabble of the Sôk to take these liberties. He smiles, and the jackals think they have license to smile back." The object of these reproaches thrust the carnation carelessly behind his own small ear.