The Baron looks innocence itself and creates a diversion by throwing pieces of roll out over the lattice to the street children, whose black eyes and black fingers appear through the slats. Each piece is received with squeals, a grand rush and protracted squabbling, and finally the more audacious appear at the door. They peep in, throw us a flower and then scuttle away. One tiny beggar brings a small bouquet and puts it in my lap. The Baron gives her a media and says something about "vamos." She flies off, but only to tell the rest of the success of her mission, and the whole horde troop in and pile the corner of the table with more or less faded roses and appeal vociferously for "Media! media!" The Baron, seeing that we are amused, tosses a coin over their heads. It goes over the lattice and into the street, and the black little troop tear out and fight and scuffle under the window. They come in again and again, but finally, Peruvian patience and Mexican medias being alike exhausted, the Baron rises in his seat looking remarkably ferocious, and addresses them in stirring Spanish. The whole crowd take to their heels, tumbling one over another in excited haste. "What in the world have you said?" asked Mrs. Steele, greatly amused. "Oh, nodthing much," says the Baron in his usual low and gentle tone; "I only zay if dthey effer come again I vill cut dthem up vidth a big knife and haf dthem boil for breakfast." "You barbarian!" laughs Mrs. Steele, rising. And then she looks about. "We might have a glimpse of the church before we go if there's time." "Sairtainly!" agrees the Baron, and we find our way through the now quieter and dimmer thoroughfare to the Catholic Cathedral behind the Plaza. The occasional candle gives out too dim a light for us to form much of an idea of the interior, but it is cool and damp and mysterious. Mrs. Steele, who is a thorough and highly intelligent sightseer, explores the dim corners and finally goes back for a last look at some detail she found specially interesting. I wait for her in the dusk down by the door; the Baron has disappeared for the moment. "I wish Mrs. Steele wouldn't be so particular about taking notes," I say to myself. "I'm tired, and it's very uncanny and grave-like here." A little sound beside me, and I turn with a start. In the dim light I see a chimpanzee-like face looking up to mine. It is horribly seared and wrinkled, one tooth sticks out from the wide, shrivelled lips, and the beady animal-like eyes glare through grey elf locks. I am speechless with fright, till the dreadful apparition stretches out a skinny arm and with some strange words lays a claw-like hand on my bare wrist. I shrink back, uttering a little muffled cry of horror. The big Peruvian comes hurriedly towards me from the other side of the church. "Vas dthat you, Senorita?" he says. Faint with fatigue and fright, I put out a shaking hand to steady myself self against the damp pillar.