rse really lies in an altogether different direction, and, as
if by mutual consent, they suddenly turn right about face.

Taking advantage of the enemy's discomfiture, they are enabled to make
good their escape, and presently reach the vicinity of the hotel, rather
out of breath, and looking somewhat the worse for their strange
adventures.

Professor Sharpe has been glowing with pride and satisfaction up to the
moment they reach the caravansary, then all of a sudden he seems to
collapse.

A sound comes from a window above; a clear, sibilant sound; a human
voice uttering one word, but investing it with a volume of reproach
beyond description.

That word:

"Philander!"

The doughty little professor, who has proved himself as brave as a lion
in the face of actual and overwhelming danger, now shows positive signs
of flunking. He clutches the arm of his fellow-adventurer, and whispers:

"John Craig, remember your solemn promise."

"Never fear; I'll stand by you, professor."

"Philander Sharpe!"

This time the inflection is more positive and acrid. It is no longer a
tone of plaint and entreaty, but touches the Caudle lecture style. Of
course, he can no longer ignore the presence of his better half.

"It's I, Gwendolin," he says, meekly.

"Oh, it is! You've condescended to take some notice of me at last. Well,
I'm glad to see you. Come up stairs at once, and confess that you've
treated me abominably, you bad man."

"For Heaven's sake let's get in before a crowd gathers," groans the
professor, with a glance of horror up in the direction of the
white-capped head protruding from, the second-story window.

Craig is amused, but takes pity on his companion, so they enter the
hotel together.

"Will you tell her all?" he asks.

"She'll never rest content now until she discovers it," says Philander,
sadly.

"Then make a clean breast. I give you permission to speak of my affairs,
only--"

"What?"

"Somehow I'd rather not have Lady Ruth know about Pauline Potter, and
the foolish whim that causes her to pursue me."

At this Philander chuckles, being able to see through a millstone with a
hole in it.

"I'll warn Gwendolin, then. She entertains a warm feeling for you,
John--always has since making your acquaintance; and after the event of
to-day, or rather yesterday, since it is past the witching hour of
midnight, she is ready to do anything for you."

"Well, good-night, professor," with a warm shake of the ha