d
disappeared.

For a time the conversation was general. Kara, who was a frank admirer
of the comfort of the room and who lamented his own inability to secure
with money the cosiness which John had obtained at little cost, went on
a foraging expedition whilst his host applied himself to a proof which
needed correcting.

"I suppose it is impossible for you to have electric light here," Kara
asked.

"Quite," replied the other.

"Why?"

"I rather like the light of this lamp."

"It isn't the lamp," drawled the Greek and made a little grimace; "I
hate these candles."

He waved his hand to the mantle-shelf where the six tall, white, waxen
candles stood out from two wall sconces.

"Why on earth do you hate candles?" asked the other in surprise.

Kara made no reply for the moment, but shrugged his shoulders. Presently
he spoke.

"If you were ever tied down to a chair and by the side of that chair was
a small keg of black powder and stuck in that powder was a small candle
that burnt lower and lower every minute--my God!"

John was amazed to see the perspiration stand upon the forehead of his
guest.

"That sounds thrilling," he said.

The Greek wiped his forehead with a silk handkerchief and his hand shook
a little.

"It was something more than thrilling," he said.

"And when did this occur?" asked the author curiously.

"In Albania," replied the other; "it was many years ago, but the devils
are always sending me reminders of the fact."

He did not attempt to explain who the devils were or under what
circumstances he was brought to this unhappy pass, but changed the
subject definitely.

Sauntering round the cosy room he followed the bookshelf which filled
one wall and stopped now and again to examine some title. Presently he
drew forth a stout volume.

"'Wild Brazil'," he read, "by George Gathercole-do you know Gathercole?"

John was filling his pipe from a big blue jar on his desk and nodded.

"Met him once--a taciturn devil. Very short of speech and, like all men
who have seen and done things, less inclined to talk about himself than
any man I know."

Kara looked at the book with a thoughtful pucker of brow and turned the
leaves idly.

"I've never seen him," he said as he replaced the book, "yet, in a
sense, his new journey is on my behalf."

The other man looked up.

"On your behalf?"

"Yes--you know he has gone to Patagonia for me. He believes there is
gold there--you will learn as much f