now--wears a green
turban?"

"That I most certainly 'ave _not_, Mr. Ventimore," said Mrs. Rapkin,
with emphasis, "nor wouldn't. Not if his turbin was all the colours of
the rainbow--for I don't 'old with such. Why, there was Rapkin's own
sister-in-law let her parlour floor to a Horiental--a Parsee _he_ was,
or _one_ o' them Hafrican tribes--and reason she 'ad to repent of it,
for all his gold spectacles! Whatever made you fancy I should let to a
blackamoor?"

"Oh, I thought I saw somebody about--er--answering that description,
and I wondered if----"

"Never in _this_ 'ouse, sir. Mrs. Steggars, next door but one, might let
to such, for all I can say to the contrary, not being what you might
call particular, and her rooms more suitable to savage notions--but I've
enough on _my_ hands, Mr. Ventimore, attending to you--not keeping a
girl to do the waiting, as why should I while I'm well able to do it
better myself?"

As soon as she relieved him of her presence, he examined the bottle:
there was nothing whatever inside it, which disposed of all the hopes he
had entertained from that quarter.

It was not difficult to account for the visionary Oriental as an
hallucination probably inspired by the heavy fumes (for he now believed
in the fumes) which had doubtless resulted from the rapid decomposition
of some long-buried spices or similar substances suddenly exposed to the
air.

If any further explanation were needed, the accidental blow to the back
of his head, together with the latent suggestion from the "Arabian
Nights," would amply provide it.

So, having settled these points to his entire satisfaction, he went to
his office in Great Cloister Street, which he now had entirely to
himself, and was soon engaged in drafting the specification for Beevor
on which he had been working when so fortunately interrupted the day
before by the Professor.

The work was more or less mechanical, and could bring him no credit and
little thanks, but Horace had the happy faculty of doing thoroughly
whatever he undertook, and as he sat there by his wide-open window he
soon became entirely oblivious of all but the task before him.

So much so that, even when the light became obscured for a moment, as if
by some large and opaque body in passing, he did not look up
immediately, and, when he did, was surprised to find the only armchair
occupied by a portly person, who seemed to be trying to recover his
breath.

"I beg your pardon," sa