[Illustration: "Up here!" came the voice again]
He was smoothly shaven, with blond hair almost ripe enough to be auburn;
he wore a gray suit of rather loose and careless material, a belt, but
no waistcoat; his trousers were reefed up from a pair of saddle-brown
shoes, and the silk band around his small straw hat was tricolored. In
his hand was a paper-covered book. Swung over his shoulder was a camera
in a leather case. He sat there on top of the high wall and gazed at
Kalora with a grinning interest, and she, forgetting that she was
unveiled and clad only in the simple garments which had horrified the
best people of Morovenia, gazed back at him, for he was the first of the
kind she had seen.
"What are you doing here?" she asked wonderingly.
"I am looking for the show," he replied. "They told me down at the hotel
that a very hot bunch of acrobats were doing a few stunts down here this
afternoon, and I thought I'd break in if I could. Wanted to get some
pictures of them."
"Were you invited?"
"No, but that doesn't make any difference. In Cairo I went to a native
wedding every day. If I passed a house where there was a wedding being
pulled off, I simply went inside and mingled. They never put me
out--seemed to enjoy having me there.
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