rth and breeding, Mr.
Cleek. Pardon me if I ask an impertinent question. Have we by any chance
met before--in society or elsewhere? There is something oddly familiar
in your countenance. I can't quite seem to locate it, however."

"Then I shouldn't waste my time in endeavouring to do so, Major, if I
were you," responded Cleek with the utmost _sang-froid_. "It is bound to
end in nothing. Points of resemblance between persons who are in no way
connected are of common occurrence. I have no position in society, no
position of any sort but _this_. I am simply Cleek, the detective. I
have a good memory, however, and if I had ever met you before I should
not have forgotten it."

And with this non-committal response he dismissed the subject airily,
waved the major to a seat, and the business of the interview began.

"My dear Cleek," Narkom began, opening fire without further parley, "the
major has come to ask your aid in a case of singular and mystifying
interest. You may or may not have heard of a music-hall artiste--a sort
of conjuror and impersonator--called 'Zyco the Magician,' who was
assisted in his illusions by a veiled but reputedly beautiful Turkish
lady who was billed on the programmes and posters as 'Zuilika, the
Caliph's Daughter.'"

"I remember the pair very well indeed. They toured the music-halls for
years, and I saw their performance frequently. They were the first, I
believe, to produce that afterward universal trick known as 'The
Vanishing Lady.' As I have not heard anything of them nor seen their
names billed for the past couple of years, I fancy they have either
retired from the profession or gone to some other part of the world. The
man was not only a very clever magician, but a master of mimicry. I
always believed, however, that in spite of his name he was of English
birth. The woman's face I never saw, of course, as she was always veiled
to the eyes after the manner of Turkish ladies. But although a good many
persons suspected that her birthplace was no nearer Bagdad than Peckham,
I somehow felt that she was, after all, a genuine, native-born Turk."

"You are quite right in both suspicions, Mr. Cleek," put in the major
agitatedly. "The man _was_ an Englishman; the lady _is_ a Turk."

"May I ask, Major, why you speak of the lady in the present tense and of
the man in the past? Is he dead?"

"I hope so," responded the major fervently. "God knows I do, Mr. Cleek.
My very hope in life depends upon that