est favour I have ever asked of you, and I hope you will not
disappoint me."

For some moments he paced the room as if in anxious thought. Then he
returned to his seat at the writing-table. The long hand of the clock
upon the mantelpiece had made a perceptible movement when he spoke
again. So changed was his voice, however, that I scarcely recognised it.

"Cyril," he said, "you have asked me a question to which I can return
you but one answer, and that is--may God help you if you have fallen
into that man's power! What he has done or how he has treated you I do
not know, but I tell you this, that he is as cruel and as remorseless as
Satan himself. You are my friend, and I tell you I would far rather see
you dead than in his clutches. I do not fear many men, but Pharos the
Egyptian is to me an incarnate terror."

"You say Pharos the Egyptian. What do you mean by that?"

"What I say. The man is an Egyptian, and claims, I believe, to be able
to trace his descent back at least three thousand years."

"And you know no more of him?"

As I put the question I looked at Sir George's hand, which rested on his
blotting-pad, and noticed that it was shaking as if with the palsy.

Once more a pause ensued.

"What I know must remain shut up in my own brain," he answered slowly
and as if he were weighing every word before he uttered it; "and it will
go down to my grave with me. Dear lad, fond as I am of you, you must not
ask any more of me, for I can not satisfy your curiosity."

"But, Sir George, I assure you, with all the earnestness at my command,
that this is a matter of life and death to me," I replied. "You can have
no notion what it means. My honour, my good name--nay, my very existence
itself--depends upon it."

As if in answer to my importunity, my friend rose from his chair and
picked up the newspaper which the attendant had placed on the table
beside me. He opened it, and, after scanning the pages, discovered what
he was looking for. Folding it carefully, he pointed to a certain column
and handed it to me. I took it mechanically and glanced at the item in
question. It was an account of the murder of the unfortunate curiosity
dealer, but, so far as I could see, my name was not mentioned. I looked
up at Sir George for an explanation.

"Well?" I said, but the word stuck in my throat.

"Though you will scarcely credit it, I think I understand everything,"
he replied. "The murdered man's shop was within a short dista