on a bench
just outside. They had not been there for more than a minute, when a
boy, dressed in half-European and half-native costume approached.

"Excellency waits for his friend?" he asked in hesitating tones.

Helmar eyed the youth up and down.

"Well?" he said at last.

"I have paper--what you call letter!"

He handed a dirty envelope to Helmar, and bowing low, waited for the
expected _douceur_.

The letter was addressed to Helmar in Mark's handwriting. He tore it
open and rapidly scanned the contents.

"The scoundrel!" he cried, and flung the letter to Osterberg.

CHAPTER IV

THE PARTING OF FRIENDS

Charlie picked up the letter and read it out.

"Dear Helmar,

"I could not continue the journey as we have been going on. I did
not want to rob you of your money, but you gave me the opportunity
of borrowing sufficient to take me where I wish to go. At some
future date I will return it with interest. Good-bye, and good luck
to you. We shall meet again some day.

"Mark Arden."

Having read and re-read the brief note, Osterberg silently returned
it to his friend. His face wore a troubled expression, and, as soon
as Helmar had paid the messenger, he burst out into a torrent of
invective.

"The lying scoundrel! Oh, George, I am so sorry I asked to bring
him. It is all my fault--and I thought him honest. I can never
forgive myself!" And the boy broke off, choking with anger and
vexation.

"Never mind him," exclaimed George, placing the letter carefully in
his pocket. "Some day, no doubt, we shall find him, and then--well,
we shall see! In the meantime, I have still enough, with care, to
take us to Egypt, and then we must trust to luck."

They went to their hotel, sadder and wiser youths. The thought of
Mark's treachery weighed more heavily on them than either cared to
acknowledge. George, with the independence of character essentially
his, was the first to throw the unpleasant feeling off. They were
sitting in the little room they had rented, their frugal meal
finished and thoughts of bed already possessing them. Suddenly
Charlie looked over to his friend.

"George, I'm going to stop in Constantinople for some time."

"Why," exclaimed Helmar, "whatever for?"

Charlie paused for a moment before answering.

"It's no use beating about the bush. You have scarcely enough money
for yourself, and I've made up my mind that