ume are not understood nowadays; but you, from experience, know
that certain perfumes have occult uses. At the Pyramid of Meydum in
Egypt, Antony Ferrara dared--and the just God did not strike him
dead--to make a certain incense. It was often made in the remote past,
and a portion of it, probably in a jar hermetically sealed, had come
into his possession. I once detected its dreadful odour in his rooms
in London. Had you asked me prior to that occasion if any of the
hellish stuff had survived to the present day, I should most
emphatically have said _no_; I should have been wrong. Ferrara had
some. He used it all--and went to the Meydum pyramid to renew his
stock."

Robert Cairn was listening intently.

"All this brings me back to a point which I have touched upon before,
sir," he said: "To my certain knowledge, the late Sir Michael and
yourself have delved into the black mysteries of Egypt more deeply
than any men of the present century. Yet Antony Ferrara, little more
than a boy, has mastered secrets which you, after years of research,
have failed to grasp. What does this mean, sir?"

Dr. Cairn, again locking his hands behind him, stared out of the
window.

"He is not an ordinary mortal," continued his son. "He is
supernormal--and supernaturally wicked. You have admitted--indeed it
was evident--that he is merely the adopted son of the late Sir
Michael. Now that we have entered upon the final struggle--for I feel
that this is so--I will ask you again: _Who is Antony Ferrara_?"

Dr. Cairn spun around upon the speaker; his grey eyes were very
bright.

"There is one little obstacle," he answered, "which has deterred me
from telling you what you have asked so often. Although--and you have
had dreadful opportunities to peer behind the veil--you will find it
hard to believe, I hope very shortly to be able to answer that
question, and to tell you who Antony Ferrara really is."

Robert Cairn beat his fist upon the arm of the chair.

"I sometimes wonder," he said, "that either of us has remained sane.
Oh! what does it mean? What can we do? What can we do?"

"We must watch, Rob. To enlist the services of Saunderson, would be
almost impossible; he lives in his orchid houses; they are his world.
In matters of ordinary life I can trust him above most men, but in
this--"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Could we suggest to him a reason--any reason but the real one--why he
should refuse to receive Ferrara?"

"It might de