I entered the room, resolved to see who
his companion might be. Of course, in my own mind I had quite settled
that it was the person to whom he had telegraphed from Bournemouth--in
other words Nikola. But who was Nikola? And had I ever seen him before?

My curiosity was destined to be satisfied, and in a most unexpected
fashion. For there, sitting at the table, a half-smoked cigarette
between his fingers, and his face turned towards me, was the man whom I
had seen playing chess in the restaurant, the man who had told me my
name by the cards in my pocket, and the man who had warned me in such a
mysterious fashion about my sweetheart's departure. He was Baxter's
correspondent! He was Nikola!

Whatever my surprise may have been, he was not in the least
disconcerted, but rose calmly from his seat and proffered me his hand,
saying as he did so:

"Good-evening, Mr. Hatteras. I am delighted to see you, and still more
pleased to learn that you and my worthy old friend, Baxter, have met
before. Won't you sit down?"

I seated myself on a chair at the further end of the table; Baxter
meanwhile looked from one to the other of us as if uncertain whether to
go or stay. Presently, however, he seemed to make up his mind, and
advancing towards Nikola, said, with an earnestness that I could see was
assumed for the purpose of putting me off the scent:

"And so I cannot induce you, Dr. Nikola, to fit out an expedition for
the work I have named?"

"If I had five thousand pounds to throw away," replied Nikola, "I might
think of it, Mr. Baxter, but as I haven't you must understand that it is
impossible." Then seeing that the other was anxious to be going, he
continued, "Must you be off? then good-night."

Baxter shook hands with us both with laboured cordiality, and having
done so slunk from the room. When the door closed upon him Nikola turned
to me.

"There must be some fascination about a missionary's life after all," he
said. "My old tutor, Baxter, as you are aware, has a comfortable
position with the young Marquis of Beckenham, which, if he conducts
himself properly, may lead to something really worth having in the
future, and yet here he is anxious to surrender it in order to go back
to his work in New Guinea, to his hard life, insufficient food, and
almost certain death."

"He was in New Guinea then?"

"Five years--so he tells me."

"Are you certain of that?"

"Absolutely!"

"Then all I can say is that, in spite of hi