th books and things?"

"Yes, books and things," I echud.

The page came up and announced Hamdi's intention of immediate
appearance.

"And how is that charming young lady, your ward, Miss Carlotta?"
continued my tormentor.

"Yes," I answered hurriedly. "A charming young lady. You used to give
her sweets. Have you noticed that a fondness for sugar plums induces an
equanimity of character? It also spoils the teeth. That is why the front
teeth of all American women are so bad."

I must be endowed with the low cunning of the fox, who, I am told, by
a swift turn puts his pursuers off the scent. The learned term the
rhetorical device an _ignoratio elenchi_. My young friend's patriotism
rose in furious defence of his countrywomen's beauty. I looked round the
luxuriously furnished vestibule, wondering from which of the many
doors the object of my hatred would emerge, and my young friend's talk
continued to ruffle the fringe of my mind.

"I'm afraid you're expecting some one rather badly," he remarked with
piercing perceptiveness.

"A dull acquaintance," said I. "I shall be sorry when his arrival puts
an end to our engaging conversation."

Then the lift door opened and Hamdi stepped out like the Devil in an
Alhambra ballet.

He looked at my card and looked at me. He bowed politely.

"I did not know whom I should have the pleasure of seeing," said he in
his execrable French. "In what way can I be of service to Sir Marcus
Ordeyne?"

"What have you done with Carlotta?" I asked, glaring at him.

His ignoble small-pox pitted face assumed an expression of bland
inquiry.

"Carlotta?"

"Yes," said I. "Where have you taken her to?"

"Explain yourself, Monsieur," said Hamdi. "Do I understand that Lady
Ordeyne has disappeared?"

"Tell me what you have done with her."

His crafty features grew satanic; his long fleshy nose squirmed like the
proboscis of one of Orcagna's fiends.

"Really, Monsieur," said he, with a hideous leer--oh, words are impotent
to express the ugliness of that face! "Really, Monsieur, supposing I
had stolen Miladi, you would be the last person I should inform of her
whereabouts. You are simple, Monsieur. I had always heard that England
was a country of arcadian innocence, so unlike my own black, wicked
country, and now--" he shrugged his shoulders blandly, "_j'en suis
convaincu_."

"You may jeer, Hamdi Effendi," said I in a white passion of anger. "But
the English police you will not find so a