if Lady Coverly knew of your proposed
visit?"

"She did not," I said with surprise.

"Then I fear your journey has been fruitless. She is an invalid and
can receive no one."

There was something peremptory and imperious in his manner which I
resented, and evidently perceiving this resentment:

"I am Lady Coverly's medical adviser," added the Eurasian. "Possibly I
can afford you some assistance. In any event I fear you will have to
accept my poor hospitality for the nonce. The alternative is a
drenching."

Even as he spoke, the hollow was illuminated by a blinding flash of
lightning, and indeed his last words were drowned in the thunder that
boomed and crashed in deepening peals over the hills.

In a sudden tropical torrent the rain descended, and I stepped forward
into the room. Its occupant rose to his great height to greet me.

"I am Dr. Damar Greefe," he said, and bowed formally.

I made myself known to him in turn, and with a sort of stately
courtesy he set a high-backed chair for me and himself resumed his
former seat.

"You are a stranger to this neighborhood, I gather?" he continued.

Now, in spite of his polished courtesy, there was that about Dr. Damar
Greefe which I did not and could not like. The voice was the voice of
a gentleman, but the face was a mask--a mask of Anubis; and seated
there in that strange untidy apartment, amid varied relics of the past
and obscure experiments possibly designed to pry into the future,
whilst thunder boomed high over the Bell House, I determined to
withhold from Dr. Damar Greefe the true nature of my mission. In fact
already I regretted having told him my name--although to have given a
fictitious one would have been a gross violation of hospitality
unhesitatingly offered.

Even now I find it hard to explain the mingled sentiments which
claimed me on the occasion of this my first meeting with a very
singular man.

"I am taking a brief rest cure," I replied; "and as I am given to
understand that Friar's Park is of much historical interest, I had
purposed seeking permission to look over the place and if possible to
take a few photographs."

Dr. Damar Greefe inclined his head gravely.

"A former monastic house, Mr. Addison," he replied. "And as you say,
of great archaeological interest. But the regrettably poor health of
Lady Coverly makes it impossible for her to entertain visitors."

Something in the tone of his voice, which now he had lowered so that
some