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slipped from between his lips, his jaw dropped, and, with an almost
imperceptible sigh, his head sank softly back on to the cushions
behind, and M. Paul Platzoff was in the opium-eater's paradise.

Ducie, who had never seen anyone similarly affected, was frightened by
his host's death-like appearance. He was doubtful whether Platzoff had
not been seized with a fit. In order to satisfy himself he touched the
gong and summoned Cleon. That incomparable domestic glided in, noiseless
as a shadow.

"Does your master always look as he does now after he has been smoking
opium?" asked the Captain.

"Always, sir."

"And how long does it take him to come round?"

"That depends, sir, on the strength of the dose he has been smoking. The
preparation is made of different strengths to suit him at different
times; but always when he has been smoking drashkil I leave him
undisturbed till midnight. If by that time he has not come round
naturally and of his own accord, I carry him to bed and then administer
to him a certain draught, which has the effect of sending him into a
natural and healthy sleep, from which he awakes next morning thoroughly
refreshed."

"Then you will come to-night at twelve, and see how your master is by
that time?" said Ducie.

"It is part of my duty to do so," answered Cleon.

"Then I will wait here till that time," said the Captain. Cleon bowed
and disappeared.

So Ducie kept watch and ward for four hours, during the whole of which
time Platzoff lay, except for his breathing, like one dead. As the last
stroke of midnight struck Cleon reappeared. His master showed not the
slightest symptom of returning consciousness. Having examined him
narrowly for a moment or two, he turned to Ducie.

"You must pardon me, sir, for leaving you alone," he said, "but I must
now take my master off to bed. He will scarcely wake up for conversation
to-night."

"Proceed as though I were not here," said Ducie. "I will just finish
this weed, and then I too will turn in."

Platzoff's private rooms, forming a suite four in number, were on the
ground floor of Bon Repos. From the main corridor the first that you
entered was the smoking-room already described. Next to that was the
dressing-room, from which you passed into the bed-room. The last of the
four was a small square room, fitted up with book-shelves, and used as a
private library and study.

Cleon, who was a strong, muscular fellow, lifted Platzoff's shrivell