ht when he
said that you were a gentleman. Tell me--I'll respect it--tell me, for
God's sake, man, who are you? _What_ are you, dear friend?"

"Cleek," he made reply. "Just Cleek! The rest is my secret and--God's!
We've never spoken of the past since _that_ night, Mr. Narkom, and, with
your kind permission, we never will speak of it again. I'm Cleek, the
detective--at your service once more. Now, then, let's have the new
strange case on which you called me here. What's it all about?"

"Necromancy--wizardry--fairy-lore--all the stuff and nonsense that goes
to the making of 'The Arabian Nights'!" said Narkom, waxing excited as
his thoughts were thus shoved back to the amazing affair he had in hand.
"All your 'Red Crawls' and your 'Sacred Sons' and your 'Nine-fingered
Skeletons' are fools to it for wonder and mystery. Talk about
witchcraft! Talk about wizards and giants and enchanters and the things
that witches did in the days of Macbeth! God bless my soul, they're
nothing to it. Those were the days of magic, anyhow, so you can take it
or leave it, as you like; but this--look here, Cleek, you've heard of a
good many queer things and run foul of a good many mysteries, I'll
admit, but did you ever--in this twentieth century, when witchcraft and
black magic are supposed to be as dead as Queen Anne--did you ever, my
dear fellow, hear of such a marvel as a man putting on a blue leather
belt that was said to have the power of rendering the wearer invisible
and then forthwith melting into thin air and floating off like a cloud
of pipe smoke?"

"Gammon!"

"Gammon nothing! Facts!"

"Facts? You're off your head, man. The thing couldn't possibly happen.
Somebody's having you!"

"Well, somebody had _him_, at all events. Young Carboys, I mean--the
chap that's engaged, or, rather was engaged, to Captain Morrison's
daughter; and the poor girl's half out of her mind over it. He put the
belt on in the presence of her and her father--in their own house, mind
you--walked into a bedroom, and vanished like smoke. Doors locked,
windows closed, room empty, belt on the floor, and man gone. Not a trace
of him from that moment to this; and yesterday was to have been his
wedding-day. There's a 'mystery,' if you like. What do you make of
that?"

Cleek looked at him for an instant. Then:

"My dear Mr. Narkom, for the moment I thought you were fooling," he said
in a tone of deep interest. "But I see now that you are quite in
earnest, althou