rty."

"Then if I don't see you before that here's good luck and good-by."

Billy rose and shook hands and the two young men parted after a few
more words.

"You have an _idee-fixe_--beware of it!" was Falconer's caution,
serious beneath its air of banter, and on the other hand Billy
perceived in the cautioner a latent uneasiness considered so
irrational that he was doing his sensible best to disown it.

So Falconer took himself off about the preparations for departure
and Billy B. Hill was left to face his problem alone. Black worry
plucked at him. He did not know what under the sun he could do next.
Already that day he had done what he could. He had been out early
and run down the one-eyed factotum loitering about the corner and
under cover of a transaction over a scarab he had made a number of
plans.

He wanted the Captain followed every instant of the day. There were
enough active little Arabs greedy for _piastres_ to do that well
and send back constant word to him. There was coming that day, he
felt, an interview between him and that Captain. Then he wanted the
one-eyed man to insinuate himself into the palace. He must find out
things. He could use his connection with the eunuch who was uncle of
his brother's wife.

So much Billy had already arranged and now after a hasty breakfast
he was off to the consul, where he proceeded to unfold his story
while the consul drew little circles on his blotter and looked out
of the corners of his eyes at this astonishing young man.

He made no comment when Billy paused. Perhaps he could think of none
adequate, or perhaps, after all, he had ceased to be amazed. He
merely said slowly and thoughtfully, "Of course the dancer's story
is all you really have to go upon. You had better bring her here."

"Nothing easier," Billy declared, and thinking a cab as prompt as a
telephone he drove briskly off.

The hotel held a shock for him. Fritzi Baroff was gone. She had gone
the evening before, the clerk reported, consulting the register, and
she had paid her bill. As he had not been the one on duty then he
knew nothing more about it. She had left no address.

Ultimately the clerk who had been on duty was unearthed in the
labyrinths of the hotel's backgrounds, but he could supply very
little further except the certainty that she had paid her bill in
person, and the vague belief that she had been accompanied. This
belief was companioned by a hazy notion that some one had called o