thick hair, straight yet
bushy, was slightly unkempt; it was streaked with grey; and an
unexpected mobility when he smiled ran over the features that he seemed
to hold rigid by deliberate effort. The man was cut to no quite common
measure. Henriot jumped to an intuitive conclusion: "He's not here for
pleasure or merely sight-seeing. Something serious has brought him out
to Egypt." For the face combined too ill-assorted qualities: an
obstinate tenacity that might even mean brutality, and was certainly
repulsive, yet, with it, an undecipherable dreaminess betrayed by lines
of the mouth, but above all in the very light blue eyes, so rarely
raised. Those eyes, he felt, had looked upon unusual things;
"dreaminess" was not an adequate description; "searching" conveyed it
better. The true source of the queer impression remained elusive. And
hence, perhaps, the incongruous marriage in the face--mobility laid upon
a matter-of-fact foundation underneath. The face showed conflict.

And Henriot, watching him, felt decidedly intrigued. "I'd like to know
that man, and all about him." His name, he learned later, was Richard
Vance; from Birmingham; a business man. But it was not the Birmingham he
wished to know; it was the--other: cause of the elusive, dreamy
searching. Though facing one another at so short a distance, their eyes,
however, did not meet. And this, Henriot well knew, was a sure sign that
he himself was also under observation. Richard Vance, from Birmingham,
was equally taking careful note of Felix Henriot, from London.

Thus, he could wait his time. They would come together later. An
opportunity would certainly present itself. The first links in a curious
chain had already caught; soon the chain would tighten, pull as though
by chance, and bring their lives into one and the same circle. Wondering
in particular for what kind of a companion the second cover was laid,
Henriot felt certain that their eventual coming together was inevitable.
He possessed this kind of divination from first impressions, and not
uncommonly it proved correct.

Following instinct, therefore, he took no steps towards acquaintance,
and for several days, owing to the fact that he dined frequently with
his hosts, he saw nothing more of Richard Vance, the business man from
Birmingham. Then, one night, coming home late from his friend's house,
he had passed along the great corridor, and was actually a step or so
into his bedroom, when a drawling voice