now, a whole month had passed, and Keyork Arabian professed
not to know whether the Wanderer was still in the city or not.

"Then you wish to be informed of our friend's movements, as I understand
it?" said Keyork going back to the main point.

"Yes--what happened on that day?" Beatrice asked, for she wished to hear
more.

"Oh, on that day? Yes. Well, nothing happened worth mentioning. We
talked a little and went out of the church and walked a little way
together. I forget when we met next, but I have seen him at least a
dozen times since then, I am sure."

Beatrice began to understand that Keyork had no intention of giving her
any further information. She reflected that she had learned much in
this interview. The Wanderer had been, and perhaps still was, in Prague.
Unorna loved him and they had been frequently together. He had been in
the Teyn Kirche on the day she had last been there herself, and in all
probability he had seen her, since he had chosen the very seat in which
she had sat. Further, she gathered that Keyork had some interest in
not speaking more frankly. She gave up the idea of examining him any
further. He was a man not easily surprised, and it was only by means
of a surprise that he could be induced to betray even by a passing
expression what he meant to conceal. Her means of attack were exhausted
for the present. She determined at least to repeat her request clearly
before dismissing him, in the hope that it might suit his plans to
fulfil it, but without the least trust in his sincerity.

"Will you be so kind as to make some inquiry, and let me know the result
to-day?" she asked.

"I will do everything to give you an early answer," said Keyork. "And
I shall be the more anxious to obtain one without delay in order that
I may have the very great pleasure of visiting you again. There is much
that I would like to ask you, if you would allow me. For old friends,
as I trust I may say that we are, you must admit that we have exchanged
few--very few--confidences this morning. May I come again to-day? It
would be an immense privilege to talk of old times with you, of our
friends in Egypt and of our many journeys. For you have no doubt
travelled much since then. Your dear father," he lowered his voice
reverentially, "was a great traveller, as well as a very learned man.
Ah, well, my dear lady--we must all make up our minds to undertake
that great journey one of these days. But I pain you. I was very much