and contained the brass box which actually was responsible for our presence in London. The last glimpse I had of him th

dusty palms, a white wall overgrown with purple blossoms, and above all the dazzling vault of Egypt. Upon the balcony my imagination painted a figure, limning it with loving details, the figure of Karamaneh; and I thought that her glorious eyes would be sorrowful and her lips perhap

dy streets towards Charing Cross; for I was availing myself of the opportunity to call upon Dr. Murray,

r five, and seeing no one in the lobby whom I knew, proceeded immediately to our apartment. Nayland Smith was not

per and settled down in the lounge where I had an uninterrupted view of the entrance doors. The dinner hour approached, b

, but I, familiar with my friend's punctual and exact habits, became strangely uneasy. I did not wish to make myself ridiculous, but growing restlessn

ne of the taximen who habitually stood upon the neighboring

d, had been a small, dark man, possessing remarkably well-cut olive-hued features. Ha

; I was almost certain that some catastrophe had befallen Smith. Our c

ted if the man could help me, unless, as was possible, he chanced to be familiar with my friend's appearance, and had actually

d Smith very well by sight, and as he had been on duty in the public office of the bank at the

ou say he came to deposit v

!" I crie

sir, under the supervision of the assistant manager-and I can a

x unsteadily. Indeed, I clut

h a haze seeming to dance between my eyes and the active life in the lobby before me, I realized that the Si-Fan-that unseen, sinister