Their wearer was
evidently standing quite near the screen, possibly listening. Harley had
an idea that some second person stood immediately behind the first. Of
this idea he presently had confirmation. He was gripping the stem of his
pipe very tightly and any one who could have seen him sitting there must
have perceived that although his face wore an unusual pallor, he was
composed and entirely master of himself.

A voice uttered his name:

"Mr. Paul Harley."

He could not be sure, but he thought it was the voice of Ormuz Khan's
secretary. He drew his pipe from between his teeth, and:

"Yes, what do you want with me?" he asked.

"Your attention, Mr. Harley, for a few moments, if you feel sufficiently
recovered."

"Pray proceed," said Harley.

Of the presence of a second person beyond the screen he was now assured,
for he had detected the sound of whispered instructions; and sinking
lower and lower upon the divan, he peered surreptitiously under the
border of the curtain, believing it to be more than probable that his
movements were watched.

This led to a notable discovery. A pair of gray suede shoes became
visible a few inches behind the glossy black boots--curiously small
shoes with unusually high heels. The identity of their wearer was beyond
dispute to the man who had measured that delicate foot.

Ormuz Khan stood behind the screen!

CHAPTER XXV. AN ENGLISHMAN'S HONOUR

"You have been guilty of a series of unfortunate mistakes, Mr. Harley,"
continued the speaker. "Notably, you have relied upon the clumsy device
of disguise. To the organization in which you have chosen to interest
yourself, this has provided some mild amusement. Your pedlar of almanacs
was a clever impersonation, but fortunately your appearance at the Savoy
had been anticipated, and no one was deceived."

Paul Harley did not reply. He concluded, quite correctly, that the
organization had failed to detect himself in the person of the nervous
cobbler. He drew courage from this deduction. Fire-Tongue was not
omniscient.

"It is possible," continued the unseen speaker, in whom Harley had
now definitely recognized Ormuz Khan's secretary, "that you recently
overheard a resolution respecting yourself. Your death, in fact, had
been determined upon. Life and death being synonymous, the philosopher
contemplates either with equanimity."

"I am contemplating the latter with equanimity at the moment," said
Harley, dryly.

"The brave man