ills, apparently
hand-moulded, of a grayish-brown substance, putty-soft.

Slowly Victor selected three, placed one after another upon his tongue, and
swallowed them.

He shut the casket and sat waiting.

Slowly the keenness of his countenance became blurred, as if the hand of an
unseen sculptor were rubbing down its features, doing away the veneer with
which Europe had overlaid the primitive Asiatic, which now showed on the
surface, in every detail of coarsely modelled nose, oblique eyes of animal
cunning, pendulous lips cruel and sensual.

By degrees a faint trace of colour began to flush Victor's cheeks, a smile
modified the set of his mouth, the heavy-lidded eyes lost their lustreless
opacity and glimmered with uncanny light.

He breathed deeply, evenly, with an evident relish. The action of the opium
was visibly renewing his powers. His expression, softening, became terrible
with brute tenderness and longing. Gazing into shadows in which he saw that
which he wished ardently to see, he stretched forth his arms, and his lips
moved, shaping a name:

"Sofia!"

As those syllables, freighted with that undying passion which consumed the
man, sounded upon the stillness, Victor turned sharply, with a gesture of
irritation, looking aside, listening.

Instantaneously the Asiatic disappeared, thrust back into its habitual
latency within the prison of European: Prince Victor was as he had been, as
always to the world, cool, composed, and crafty, master, never creature, of
his emotions.

A faint buzzing was audible, broken by muffled clicks.

Rising, Victor approached a table in a corner and with a key from his
pocket ring unlocked a heavy casket of bronze. As he raised its cover a
small electric bulb illuminated the interior, focussing on the
paper-covered face of a mechanical writing device, upon which a pencil with
a broad flat lead operated by a metal arm was tracing characters resembling
the hieroglyphics of the Chinese.

When the clicking ceased and the pencil was at rest, Victor caught an end
of the paper and pulled it forward until a blank surface again occupied the
writing-bed. Upon this with another pencil he inscribed a reply, then
closed and relocked the casket.

Back at the table with the lamp, the message just received became crisp
black ash on a brazen tray.

From a locked chest Victor produced an inverness and a soft hat of black
felt. Wearing these he moved quietly out of the lamp's radius of ligh