concealed her features.

Thereupon I found myself looking into a pair of lustrous black eyes
whose almond shape was that of the Orient; I found myself looking at a
woman who, since she was evidently a Jewess, was probably no older than
eighteen or nineteen, but whose beauty was ripely voluptuous, who might
fittingly have posed for Salome, who, despite her modern fashionable
garments, at once suggested to my mind the wanton beauty of the daughter
of Herodias.

I stared at her silently for a time, and presently her full lips parted
in a slow smile. My ideas were diverted into another channel.

"You have yet to tell me what alarmed you," I said in a low voice, but
as courteously as possible, "and if I can be of any assistance in the
matter."

My visitor seemed to recollect her fright--or the necessity for
simulation. The pupils of her fine eyes seemed to grow larger and
darker; she pressed her white teeth into her lower lips, and resting her
hands upon the table leaned toward me.

"I am a stranger to London," she began, now exhibiting a certain
diffidence, "and to-night I was looking for the chambers of Mr. Raphael
Philips of Figtree Court."

"This is Figtree Court," I said, "but I know of no Mr. Raphael Philips
who has chambers here."

The black eyes met mine despairingly.

"But I am positive of the address!" protested my beautiful but strange
caller--from her left glove she drew out a scrap of paper, "here it is."

I glanced at the fragment, upon which, in a woman's hand the words were
pencilled: "Mr. Raphael Philips, 36-b Figtree Court, London."

I stared at my visitor, deeply mystified.

"These chambers are 36-b!" I said. "But I am not Raphael Philips, nor
have I ever heard of him. My name is Malcolm Knox. There is evidently
some mistake, but"--returning the slip of paper--"pardon me if I remind
you, I have yet to learn the cause of your alarm."

"I was followed across the court and up the stairs."

"Followed! By whom?"

"By a dreadful-looking man, chattering in some tongue I did not
understand!"

My amazement was momentarily growing greater.

"What kind of a man?" I demanded rather abruptly.

"A yellow-faced man--remember I could only just distinguish him in the
darkness on the stairway, and see little more of him than his eyes at
that, and his ugly gleaming teeth--oh! it was horrible!"

"You astound me," I said; "the thing is utterly incomprehensible." I
switched off the light of the lamp. "I'l