f medicine.

Exhausted, physically and mentally, and with my mind a
whispering-gallery of conjectures (it were needless for me to mention
whom respecting) I turned in, gratefully, having patched up the slight
wound in my calf.

I seemed scarcely to have closed my eyes, when Nayland Smith was shaking
me into wakefulness.

"You are probably tired out," he said; "but your crazy expedition of
last night entitles you to no sympathy. Read this; there is a train
in an hour. We will reserve a compartment and you can resume your
interrupted slumbers in a corner seat."

As I struggled upright in bed, rubbing my eyes sleepily, Smith handed
me the Daily Telegraph, pointing to the following paragraph upon the
literary page:

Messrs. M---- announce that they will publish shortly the long delayed
work of Kegan Van Roon, the celebrated American traveler, Orientalist
and psychic investigator, dealing with his recent inquiries in China. It
will be remembered that Mr. Van Roon undertook to motor from Canton
to Siberia last winter, but met with unforeseen difficulties in the
province of Ho-Nan. He fell into the hands of a body of fanatics and was
fortunate to escape with his life. His book will deal in particular with
his experiences in Ho-Nan, and some sensational revelations regarding
the awakening of that most mysterious race, the Chinese, are promised.
For reasons of his own he has decided to remain in England until the
completion of his book (which will be published simultaneously in New
York and London) and has leased Cragmire Tower, Somersetshire, in which
romantic and historical residence he will collate his notes and
prepare for the world a work ear-marked as a classic even before it is
published.

I glanced up from the paper, to find Smith's eyes fixed upon me,
inquiringly.

"From what I have been able to learn," he said, evenly, "we should reach
Saul, with decent luck, just before dusk."

As he turned, and quitted the room without another word, I realized, in
a flash, the purport of our mission; I understood my friend's ominous
calm, betokening suppressed excitement.

The Fates were with us (or so it seemed); and whereas we had not hoped
to gain Saul before sunset, as a matter of fact, the autumn afternoon
was in its most glorious phase as we left the little village with its
oldtime hostelry behind us and set out in an easterly direction, with
the Bristol Channel far away on our left and a gently sloping upland on
o