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nodded permission, he waved his white Panama hat to send his men rushing after the thieves.
    "Thank you, sir," she responded, sounding a bit breathless. "But surely I must contact the authorities…

    the police…"
    "I fear the authorities here in Casablanca will be of little assistance," he said with a rueful wag of head.
    "Theft is an all too frequent occurrence on these docks. Fortunately, my employees are knowledgeable in the ways of the streets. If it is at all possible, mademoiselle, they will retrieve your bags." He produced a smile that oozed admiration. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am—"
    " Ferdineaux LaCroix ," Apollo muttered, watching the oily Frenchman plant a kiss on her hand and feeling like he needed to spit. Badly.
    "Abigail Merchant. I am grateful, sir, for whatever you can do to retrieve my bags. They contain items that are irreplaceable."
    Just then, LaCroix caught sight of Captain Demetrios standing in the middle of the gangplank watching them.
    " Capitaine ." LaCroix acknowledged him with a nod.
    "Monsieur LaCroix."
    Demetrios paused for a moment, looking as if he wanted to say something, but then nodded brusquely and headed back to his cargo. La Croix smiled and turned his attention once again to Abigail Merchant.
    " Quel dommage , mademoiselle, that we must meet under such circumstances. If you will give me the name of your host in Casablanca, I shall see that your bags are delivered to you as soon as they are recovered."
    " Don't tell him ." Apollo ground out through gritted teeth.
    "I had planned to go first to the British Consulate," she said with a hint of indecision. "The captain has said he will send for a carriage. And he has suggested a hotel called the Exeter."
    "The Exeter. A fine old establish—" LaCroix smacked his forehead with his palm. "The fire. There was a fire recently, mademoiselle. I fear the Exeter is not available. But, there is another hotel… the Marrat."
    He brightened and gestured down the dock to a handsome black carriage with fashionable yellow wheels. "I can take you there and save both you and le capitaine much trouble."
    " The Marrat ?" Apollo groaned. " There isn't a door in the place that doesn't have at least fifty keys
    ."
    As if on cue, two of LaCroix's beefy employees came rushing back around the nearby corner bearing two carpetbags. Abigail all but melted with relief.
    "Oh, thank you, Mister LaCroix!" She squeezed the Frenchman's hands and then fell to her knees to undo the buckles and open the valises. "Thank heaven, they didn't—wait—there is still one bag missing.
    My books and papers—"
    " Dammit ." Apollo clenched both fists. " It would be that one ."
    "We will find it, mademoiselle." LaCroix watched her refasten her bags and then offered her assistance in rising.

    "Your kindness overwhelms me," she said, swaying to her feet.
    " Me, too ," Apollo snarled, shifting on the cargo to get a better view.
    "I don't know how I can ever repay you," she continued.
    "He'll think of a way. "
    "The delight in your lovely face is my sole reward, mademoiselle," LaCroix said, staring at her as if she were edible. "And perhaps the honor of your company at dinner this evening in the Marrat's dining room."
    "She'll say yes, of course. "
    "I would be honored, monsieur."
    Apollo watched, feeling thwarted and furious, as the Frenchman claimed her arm, escorted her down the dock, and helped her to his carriage. It wasn't that he actually cared about the stubbornly corseted Miss Merchant. But just now he had something of a stake in her well-being; when he saw the retrieval squad, he had visited her cabin and tucked his papers into her bag after all.
    He waited to be sure the Legionnaires didn't return before climbing down from his hiding place. Taking no chances, he slid around the cargo in stages, listening and watching. The coast seemed clear and he stepped out onto the main dock—right into Haffe's incredulous stare.
    "Your eye, Smeeth—praise be to Allah!" He was