in broad daylight, you'll have to
be sharp if you don't want him to spot you. Naturally he'll keep his
eyes as wide open, all along the line, as you will, even though he does
think you're on the way to Marseilles."

"If you're working up to a burnous and painted legs for me again, my
dear chap, it's no good," Stephen returned with the calmness of
desperation. "I've done with that sort of nonsense; but I won't trust
myself out of the train till I see the Arab's back. Then I'll make a
bolt for it and dodge him, till the new train's run along the platform
and he's safely in it."

"Monsieur has confidence in himself as a detective," smiled Roslin.

Knight could have given a sarcastic answer, since the young man from
Marseilles had not made much progress with the seemingly simple case put
into his hands a month ago. But both he and Nevill had come to think
that the case was not simple, and they were lenient with Roslin. "I hope
I'm not conceited," Stephen defended himself, "but I do feel that I can
at least keep my end up against this nigger, anyhow till the game's
played out so far that he can't stop it."

"And till I'm in it with you," Nevill finished. "By the way, that
reminds me. Some one else intends to play the game with us, whether we
like or not."

"Who?" asked Stephen, surprised and half defiant.

"My aunt. That's the mystery she was hinting at. You know how
unnaturally quiet she was while we arranged that you should look after
Maieddine, on your own, till the dinner-party was over, anyhow, and I
could get off, on a wire from you--wherever you might be?"

"Yes. She seemed interested."

"And busy. Her 'great work' was getting herself ready to follow you with
me, in the car."

"Magnificent!" said Stephen. "And like her. Hurrah for Lady MacGregor!"

"I'm glad you take it that way. I wasn't sure you would, which might
have made things awkward for me; because when my aunt wants to do a
thing, you know by this time as well as I do, it's as good as done."

"But it's splendid--if she can stand the racket. Of course her idea is,
that if we find Miss Ray she oughtn't to come back alone with us,
perhaps a long way, from some outlandish hole."

"You've got it. That's her argument. Or rather, her mandate. And I
believe she's quite able to stand the racket. Her state of mind is such,
that if she looked sixteen in the morning, this afternoon she's gone
back to fifteen."

"Wonderful old lady! But she's so fragile--a