he top of the steps.

Edith followed him, and to her alarm perceived that he was purple in the
face. He tried to smile, and indicated by a gesture that he would
recover in a minute. Meanwhile he was speechless.

Fairholme was the next up. He had hardly set foot on the roof before he
exclaimed--

"Well, I'm d----d!"

Edith turned round quickly.

"What on earth is the matter?" she cried. "Why are you using such horrid
language? Mr. Daubeney only hurried a little too fast, that is all."

Fairholme dropped his voice to a whisper.

"Look," he said, indicating with his eyes a distant corner.

Edith followed his glance, and instantly comprehended the cause of his
startled exclamation. For in that quiet spot, far removed from watchful
police or inquisitive hotel servants, stood four men, whom she could not
fail to recognize as Gros Jean, Hussein-ul-Mulk, and the other two
Turks, although, of course, until this moment she had never previously
set eyes on them.

She instantly understood that they must continue to talk and act in the
guise of ordinary tourists. In this respect the presence of Daubeney was
invaluable, for he naturally could not guess the community of interest
between his aristocratic friends and the motley group in the corner.

As soon as he regained his breath, Edith and he commenced a lively
conversation. Sir Hubert joined them, and in the course of their casual
stroll round the tower they passed close to the Frenchman and his
companions, attracting a casual glance from the former, who instantly
set them down as English people bound for the East, and whiling away a
few hours in Marseilles prior to the departure of their steamer.

But another surprise awaited them.

A small staircase led to the top of the turret, which, as already
described, formed part of the angle that sheltered the group of men.

When Edith and the others strolled past the door they glanced inside and
caught sight of a shabby-looking Frenchman, who had paused halfway up
the stairs, and was leaning eagerly forward through an embrazured
loophole, obviously intent on hearing every word uttered by the
quartette beneath.

Fortunately Edith, who was nearest to the door, was completely shrouded
from Gros Jean's observation. Else that astute gentleman might have
noticed her involuntary start of surprise. For the shabby-looking
Frenchman was her brother.

The instant Talbot heard footsteps he naturally turned to see who it was
that ap