eadful being I
had ever encountered East or West, in his mysterious stronghold!

I wondered what my friend, Inspector Bristol, would have thought of
the project; I wondered if I should ever live to see Hassan meet his
just deserts as a result of this enterprise, which I was forced to
admit a foolhardy one. But a man who has selected the career of a
war correspondent from amongst those which Fleet Street offers, is
the victim of a certain craving for fresh experiences; I suppose,
has in his character something of an adventurous turn.

For a while I stood staring from the window, then faced about and
looked into the violet eyes of my visitor.

"I agree, Carneta!" I said.

CHAPTER XXIX

WE MEET MR. ISAACS

Quitting the wayside station, and walking down a short lane, we came
out upon Watling Street, white and dusty beneath the afternoon sun.
We were less than an hour's train journey from London but found
ourselves amid the Kentish hop gardens, amid a rural peace unbroken.
My companion carried a camera case slung across her shoulder, but
its contents were less innocent than one might have supposed. In
fact, it contained a neat set of those instruments of the burglar's
art with whose use she appeared to be quite familiar.

"There is an inn," she said, "about a mile ahead, where we can
obtain some vital information. He last wrote to me from there."

Side by side we tramped along the dusty road. We both were silent,
occupied with our own thoughts. Respecting the nature of my
companion's I could entertain little doubt, and my own turned upon
the foolhardy nature of the undertaking upon which I was embarked.
No other word passed between us then, until upon rounding a bend
and passing a cluster of picturesque cottages, the yard of the
Vinepole came into view.

"Do they know you by sight here?" I asked abruptly.

"No, of course not; we never made strategic mistakes of that kind.
If we have tea here, no doubt we can learn all we require."

I entered the little parlour of the inn, and suggested that tea
should be served in the pretty garden which opened out of it upon
the right.

The host, who himself laid the table, viewed the camera case
critically.

"We get a lot of photographers down here," he remarked tentatively.

"No doubt," said my companion. "There is some very pretty scenery
in the neighbourhood."

The landlord rested his hands upon the table.

"There was a gentleman here on Wednesday las