ckel bolt into its socket.

"Now," said Smith as I took my seat, "the story is a fragmentary one
in which there are many gaps. Let us see what we know. It seems that
the despatch which led to my sudden recall (and incidentally yours)
from Egypt to London and which only reached me as I was on the point
of embarking at Suez for Rangoon, was prompted by the arrival here of
Sir Gregory Hale, whilom attache at the British Embassy, Peking. So
much, you will remember, was conveyed in my instructions."

"Quite so."

"Furthermore, I was instructed, you'll remember, to put up at the New
Louvre Hotel; therefore you came here and engaged this suite whilst I
reported to the chief. A stranger business is before us, Petrie, I
verily believe, than any we have known hitherto. In the first place,
Sir Gregory Hale is here----"

"Here?"

"In the New Louvre Hotel. I ascertained on the way up, but not by
direct inquiry, that he occupies a suite similar to this, and
incidentally on the same floor."

"His report to the India Office, whatever its nature, must have been
a sensational one."

"He has made no report to the India Office."

"What! made no report?"

"He has not entered any office whatever, nor will he receive any
representative. He's been playing at Robinson Crusoe in a private
suite here for close upon a fortnight--_id est_ since the time of his
arrival in London!"

I suppose my growing perplexity was plainly visible, for Smith
suddenly burst out with his short, boyish laugh.

"Oh! I told you it was a strange business," he cried.

"Is he mad?"

Nayland Smith's gaiety left him; he became suddenly stern and grim.

"Either mad, Petrie, stark raving mad, or the savior of the Indian
Empire--perhaps of all Western civilization. Listen. Sir Gregory Hale,
whom I know slightly and who honors me, apparently, with a belief that
I am the only man in Europe worthy of his confidence, resigned his
appointment at Peking some time ago, and set out upon a private
expedition to the Mongolian frontier with the avowed intention of
visiting some place in the Gobi Desert. From the time that he actually
crossed the frontier he disappeared for nearly six months, to reappear
again suddenly and dramatically in London. He buried himself in this
hotel, refusing all visitors and only advising the authorities of his
return by telephone. He demanded that _I_ should be sent to see him;
and--despite his eccentric methods--so great is the Chief's fa