.

"Can you," I went on, "tell the whereabouts of a man whom I may describe
to you?"

"That is very vague," was the reply. "Your description may be incorrect,
or a hundred men might answer to it. I would promise nothing under such
conditions."

"Perhaps I had better tell my story," I said.

"I think you had," said the little professor, quietly.

"On the 2nd of January of the present year," I said, "a man disappeared
in the night from a place in Yorkshire. He is an Egyptian, and easily
distinguished. A great deal depends on finding him at once. Ever since
May, endeavours have been made to track him, but without success."

"Perhaps he is dead," said the professor.

"Perhaps so; but even then it is important to know. Can you help me to
find out his whereabouts?"

"Undoubtedly I can; but I must have a good photograph of him. Have you
one?"

"I have not."

"Could you obtain one?"

"I think not."

"But this man has been seen by many people. Could not some one you
know, and who knows him, sketch a faithful likeness from memory?"

"I do not know of any one."

"Then I could not guarantee to find him. You see, I cannot work
miracles. I can only work through certain laws which I have been
fortunate enough either to recognize or discover; but there must ever be
some data upon which to go, and, you see, you give me none that is in
the least satisfactory."

"Perhaps you can," I said, "if I relate to you all the circumstances
connected with what is, I think, a somewhat remarkable story."

I had determined to tell this little man every circumstance which might
lead to Kaffar's discovery, especially those which happened in
Yorkshire. It seemed my only resource, and I felt, that somehow
something would come of it.

I therefore briefly related what I have written in this story.

"That man who mesmerized you is very clever," said the professor
quietly, when I had finished. "It was very unfortunate for you that you
should have matched yourself with such a one. His plot was well worked
out in every respect. He only made a mistake in one thing."

"And that?"

"He thought it impossible that you should ever be freed from his power
without his consent. Still it was a well-planned affair. The story, the
ghost, the quarrel--it was all well done."

"I fail to see what part the ghost had in the matter," I said.

The professor smiled. "No?" he said. "Well, I should not think it was a
vital part of his plan, but it was he