hen, leaving a small trail of winkle shells and
trotter bones to mark the record of his passage, and never seeming to
lose one iota of his appetite, eat as much and as often as he would.

The walk led down into the depths of Soho, that refuge of the foreign
element in London; but long before they halted at the narrow doorway of
a narrow house in a narrow side street that seemed to have gone to sleep
in an atmosphere of gloom and smells Cleek had adroitly "pumped" Arjeeb
Noosrut dry, and the riddle of the sacred son was a riddle to him no
longer. He was now only anxious to part from the man and return with the
news to Lady Chepstow, and was casting round in his mind for some excuse
to avoid going indoors with him to waste precious time in breaking bread
and eating salt. Suddenly there lurched out of an adjoining doorway an
ungainly figure in turban and sandals and the full flower of that
grotesque regalia which passes muster at cheap theatres and masquerade
balls for the costume of a Cingalese. The fellow had bent forward out of
the deeper darkness of the house-passage into the murk and gloom of the
ill-lit street, and was straining his eyes as if in search for some one
long expected.

"Dog of an infidel!" exclaimed Arjeeb Noosrut, speaking in Hundustani
and spitting on the pavement as he caught sight of the man. "See,
well-beloved, he is of those 'others' of which I spoke when I first met
thee. There are many of them, but true believers none. They dwell in a
room huddled up as unclean things in the house there; they drink and
make merry far into the night, and a woman veiled and in European garb
comes to them and drinks with them. Sometimes a man of her kind is with
her, and they speak a tongue that is not the tongue of our people; yet
have I seen them go forth into the city and do homage as we to the
sacred son."

Cleek sucked in his breath and, twitching round, stared at the dim
figure leaning forward in the dim light.

"By George!" he said to himself; "if I know anything, I ought to know
the slouch and the low-sunk head of the Apache! And a woman comes! And a
man comes! And there are five lacs of rupees! I wonder! I wonder! But
no--she wouldn't come here, to a place like this, if she had ventured
back into England and had called some of the band over to help. She'd go
to the old spot where she and I used to lie low and laugh whilst the
police were hunting for me. She'd go there, I'm sure, to the old Burnt
Acre Mi