m so pleased to hear. My father and he met often in Paris, when
they were attached to their different embassies. My father was in the
German service."

"Your mother was Russian, was she not?" Lewis asked tactlessly, impelled
by he knew not what motive.

"Ah, how did you know?" Mr. Marker smiled in reply, with the slightest
raising of the eyebrows. "I have indeed the blood of many nationalities
in my veins. Would that I were equally familiar with all nations, for I
know less of Russia than I know of Scotland. We in Germany are their
near neighbours, and love them, as you do here, something less than
ourselves."

He talked English with that pleasing sincerity which seems inseparable
from the speech of foreigners, who use a purer and more formal idiom
than ourselves. George looked anxiously towards Lewis, with a question
in his eyes, but finding his companion abstracted, he spoke himself.

"I have just arrived," said the other simply; "but it was from a
different direction. I have been shooting in the hills, getting cool
air into my lungs after the valleys. Why, Mrs. Logan, I have been down
to Rawal Pindi since I saw you last, and have been choked with the sun.
We northerners do not take kindly to glare and dust."

"But you are an old hand here, they tell me. I wish you'd show me the
ropes, you know. I'm very keen, but as ignorant as a babe. What sort
of rifles do they use here? I wish you'd come and look at my
ironmongery." And George plunged into technicalities.

When Lewis rose to leave, following unwillingly the convention which
forbids a guest to stay more than five minutes after a new visitor has
arrived, Marker crossed the room with them. "If you're not engaged for
to-night, Mr. Haystoun, will you do me the honour to dine with me? I
am alone, and I think we might manage to find things to talk about."
Lewis accepted gladly, and with one of his sweetest smiles the gentleman
returned to Mrs. Logan's side.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE DINNER AT GALETTI'S

"I Have heard of you so much," Mr. Marker said, "and it was a lucky
chance which brought me to Bardur to meet you." They had taken their
cigars out to the verandah, and were drinking the strong Persian coffee,
with a prospect before them of twinkling town lights, and a mountain
line of rock and snow. Their host had put on evening clothes and wore a
braided dinner-jacket which gave the faintest touch of the foreigner to
his appearance. At dinner he had talked well