ell you about the letters I have written to people there. But I
am interrupting you. I am an old man, and I have seen very many things,
so it is only natural I should like to talk about them."

"Very natural, indeed," I answered; "but in this instance all I have
come to ask of you is an address. I want you to find a person for me who
left England a few days since."

"And came to Naples? A countryman, perhaps?"

"No, he is no countryman of mine, nor do I even know that he came to
Naples; but I was told by some one in England, from whom I made
inquiries, that if I came here and asked for one Angelotti, a public
letter-writer, I should, in all probability, be able to learn his
whereabouts."

As if convinced of the importance of the part he was to play in the
affair, the old man laid his pen carefully down upon the table, and then
stood before me with his hands placed together, finger-tip to
finger-tip.

"If your Excellency would condescend to mention the individual's name,"
he said softly, "it is just possible I might be able to give him the
information he seeks."

"The name of the person I want to find is Pharos," I replied. "He is
sometimes called Pharos the Egyptian."

Had I stated that I was in search of the Author of all Evil, the placid
Angelotti could scarcely have betrayed more surprise. He took a step
from me and for a moment gazed at me in amazement. Then the expression
gradually faded from his face, leaving it as devoid of emotion as
before.

"Pharos?" he repeated. "For the moment it does not strike me that I know
the individual."

I should have believed that he really had not the power to help me had I
not noticed the look which had come into his face when I mentioned that
fatal name.

"You do not know him?" I said. "Surely you must be making some mistake.
Think again, Signor Angelotti. See, here is the card I spoke of. It has
your name and address upon it, and it was given me by Sir George
Legrath, the head of the Egyptian Museum in London, of whom I think you
must at least have heard."

He shook his head after he had examined the card.

"It is my name, sure enough," he said, handing it back to me, "but I can
not understand why you should have supposed that I know anything of the
person you are seeking. However, if you will write your name and address
upon the card, and will leave it with me, I will make inquiries, and,
should I discover anything, will at once communicate with your
Excellency.