long luncheon before the ride back to
town, at which everything that could be eaten or drunk was put on the
table, in order, as Meakim explained, that there would be less to
carry back. He met Holcombe that same evening after the cavalcade had
reached Tangier as the latter came down the stairs of the Albion.
Holcombe was in fresh raiment and cleanly shaven, and with the radiant
air of one who had had his first comfortable bath in a week.

Meakim confronted him with a smiling countenance. "Who do you think
come to-night on the mail-boat?" he asked.

"I don't know. Who?"

"Winthrop Allen, with six trunks," said Meakim, with the triumphant
air of one who brings important news.

"No, really now," said Holcombe, laughing. "The old hypocrite! I
wonder what he'll say when he sees me. I wish I could stay over
another boat, just to remind him of the last time we met. What a fraud
he is! It was at the club, and he was congratulating me on my noble
efforts in the cause of justice, and all that sort of thing. He said I
was a public benefactor. And at that time he must have already
speculated away about half of what he had stolen of other people's
money. I'd like to tease him about it."

"What trial was that?" asked Meakim.

Holcombe laughed and shook his head as he moved on down the stairs.
"Don't ask embarrassing questions, Meakim," he said. "It was one
_you_ won't forget in a hurry."

"Oh!" said Meakim, with a grin. "All right. There's some mail for you
in the office."

"Thank you," said Holcombe.

* * * * *

A few hours later Carroll was watching the roulette wheel in the
gambling-hall of the Isabella when he saw Meakim come in out of the
darkness, and stand staring in the doorway, blinking at the lights and
mopping his face. He had been running, and was visibly excited.
Carroll crossed over to him and pushed him out into the quiet of the
terrace. "What is it?" he asked.

"Have you seen Holcombe?" Meakim demanded in reply.

"Not since this afternoon. Why?"

Meakim breathed heavily, and fanned himself with his hat. "Well, he's
after Winthrop Allen, that's all," he panted. "And when he finds him
there's going to be a muss. The boy's gone crazy. He's not safe."

"Why? What do you mean? What's Allen done to him?"

"Nothing to him, but to a friend of his. He got a letter to-night in
the mail that came with Allen. It was from his sister. She wrote him
all the latest news about Allen,