Nodding affably to the proprietor, he sat down on the floor of a shop
hard by and watched Amos. The old man was evidently interested, for he
was laughing pleasantly, and bending down to look at something on the
ground. What it was Gregorio could not see. A knot of people, also
laughing, surrounded the Jew. Gregorio was curious to see what attracted
them, but fearful of being recognised by the old man. However, after a
few moments his impatience mastered him, and he stepped up to the group.
"What is it?" he asked one of the bystanders.
"Only a baby. It's lost, I think."
Gregorio pushed his way into the centre of the crowd and suddenly became
white as death.
There, seated on the ground, was his own child, laughing and talking to
himself in a queer mixture of Greek and Arabic. Amos was bending kindly
over the youngster, giving him cakes and sweets, and making inquiries as
to the parents.
A chill fear seized on Gregorio's heart. He could not have explained the
cause, nor did he stay and try to explain it. Quickly he broke into the
midst of the circle and, catching up the boy in his arms, ran swiftly
away.
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