cene of a unique outrage by this most
singular robber to afford any sense of security.

The Baron was glad to be away from that house, and, as the cab turned
the corner by the Park, was glad to be away from Park Lane. A man with
several thousand pounds' worth of diamonds upon him may be excused a
certain nervousness.

Baron Hague was not intimately acquainted with London; but it seemed to
him, now, that the taxi-driver was pursuing an unfamiliar route. Had he
made some error? Perhaps that fool Adeler had directed him wrongly.

The Baron took up the speaking-tube.

"Hi!" he called. "Hi, you! Is it the Hotel Astoria you take me?"

No notice did the man vouchsafe; looking neither to right nor to left,
but driving straight ahead. Baron Hague snorted with anger. Again he
raised the tube.

A cloud of something seemed to strike him in the face.

He dropped the tube, and reached out towards a window. Vaguely he
wondered to find it immovable. The lights of the thoroughfare--the sound
of the traffic, were fading away, farther, farther, to a remote
distance. He clutched at the cushions--slipping--slipping----

His next impression was of a cell-like room, the floor composed of
blocks of red granite, the walls smoothly plastered. An unglazed window
made a black patch in one wall; and upon a big table covered with books
and papers stood a queer-looking lamp. It was apparently silver, and in
the form of a clutching hand. Within the hand rested a globe of light,
above which was attached a coloured shade. The table was black with
great age, and a carven chair, equally antique, stood by it upon a
coarse fibre mat. The place was the abode of an anchorite, save for a
rich Damascene curtain draped before a recess at one end.

The Baron found himself to be in a heavily cushioned chair, gazing
across at this table--whereat was seated a very dark and singularly
handsome man who wore a garment like an Arab's robe.

This stranger had his large, luminous eyes set fixedly upon the Baron's
face.

"I am dreaming!"

Baron Hague stood up, unsteadily, raising his hand to his head.

There was a faint perfume in the air of the room; and now Hague saw that
the man who sat so attentively watching him was smoking a yellow-wrapped
cigarette. His brain grew clearer. Memory began to return; and he knew
that he was not dreaming. Frantically he thrust his hand into the inside
breast pocket.

"Do not trouble yourself, Baron," the speaker's voice