the visitor's mind was that he had to do with an obvious charlatan. The trappings of the East superimposed upon the contours of the West did not inspire confidence. Yet the reputation of this man Wygram was such as to make it impossible to dismiss him lightly. Humbug he might be, yet no one could have earned such a name throughout the world, or rather the under-*world of high affairs, without being the possessor of qualities which placed him entirely beyond the range of ordinary people.
All the same a dyed-in-the-wool skeptic found it hard to dissemble a secret pang which was more than disappointment if less than disgust, as he confronted this pseudo-oriental with a smile and a conventional phrase.
"It is good of you, Mr. Wygram, to see me."
The man on the floor removed the pipe from his lips and bowed slightly. Between his slender fingers, which were those of an æsthete and an artist, he held the card of his august visitor.
"Pray, sit down," he said, in a gentle voice of extraordinary sweetness as the Egyptian closed the door and left them together.
As Saul Hartz brought his solid bulk very slowly and deliberately to anchor on the edge of a most seductive divan, he felt pretty sure in his own mind that already he had this merry-andrew sized up.
The man on the floor placidly resumed his tchibouk. With a grave absorption, a more than oriental indiffer-
