nsed with collars and wore soft mufflers.
It was hard to be called upon to face a professional interview dressed
thus, and having a big tweed cap pulled down over my eyes.

Across the writing-table we confronted one another in dismayed silence,
whilst, below, the bell sent up its ceaseless clangor.

"It has to be done, Smith," I said, regretfully. "Almost certainly it
means a journey and probably an absence of some hours."

I threw my cap upon the table, turned up my coat to hide the absence
of collar, and started for the door. My last sight of Smith showed him
standing looking after me, tugging at the lobe of his ear and clicking
his teeth together with suppressed irritability. I stumbled down the
dark stairs, along the hall, and opened the front door. Vaguely visible
in the light of a street lamp which stood at no great distance away,
I saw a slender man of medium height confronting me. From the shadowed
face two large and luminous eyes looked out into mine. My visitor,
who, despite the warmth of the evening, wore a heavy greatcoat, was an
Oriental!

I drew back, apprehensively; then:

"Ah! Dr. Petrie!" he said in a softly musical voice which made me start
again, "to God be all praise that I have found you!"

Some emotion, which at present I could not define, was stirring within
me. Where had I seen this graceful Eastern youth before? Where had I
heard that soft voice?

"Do you wish to see me professionally?" I asked--yet even as I put the
question, I seemed to know it unnecessary.

"So you know me no more?" said the stranger--and his teeth gleamed in a
slight smile.

Heavens! I knew now what had struck that vibrant chord within me! The
voice, though infinitely deeper, yet had an unmistakable resemblance
to the dulcet tones of Karamaneh--of Karamaneh whose eyes haunted my
dreams, whose beauty had done much to embitter my years.

The Oriental youth stepped forward, with outstretched hand.

"So you know me no more?" he repeated; "but I know you, and give praise
to Allah that I have found you!"

I stepped back, pressed the electric switch, and turned, with leaping
heart, to look into the face of my visitor. It was a face of the purest
Greek beauty, a face that might have served as a model for Praxiteles;
the skin had a golden pallor, which, with the crisp black hair and
magnetic yet velvety eyes, suggested to my fancy that this was the young
Antinious risen from the Nile, whose wraith now appeared to me out