d; we were engaged; a friend in
whose honor I fully believed stole her heart away from me, but all these
years I have never forgotten--never. John Craig, the girl I loved and
who was to have been my wife was--your mother."

The little man folds his arms and throws his head back in a peculiar way
he has. How strangely full of dignity these undersized people can be at
times.

"Is it possible, and you never breathed a word of all this to me before?"

"Ah! my dear boy, the time was not ripe. I said nothing but sawed wood."

"Why do you speak now?"

"I have an idea that you are about to make a step in the dark, and after
duly considering the matter, came to the conclusion that it was time to
speak--time to let you know my sympathies were with you, time to take a
hand in this game myself."

John hardly knows what to do or say, he is so amazed at such a strange
happening.

"But, professor, I am only going now to see if I can learn anything
about my mother at the house where she staid six weeks ago, when a line
was sent to me."

The little man wags his head wisely.

"That information was given to you by one whom you believed to be Signor
Stucco, otherwise Luther Keene, the person having charge of the police
of Valetta?"

"Yes," replies John, wonderingly.

"At that hour the signer was in his own room, engaged in other business,
and oblivious of the fact whether one John Alexander Craig, M.D., was in
the land of the living or not."

All of which excites the curiosity of the young man not a little.

"Since you know so much, professor, perhaps you can tell me who it is
plays with me, the object he has, and whether my mother was ever in
that house on the Strada Mezzodi."

"I can answer in part. I believe she was there. These enemies of yours,
dear boy, have baited a trap. You are about to walk into it."

"A trap, professor! why should they seek to harm me?"

"They have reasons. I can't mention them all, but perhaps some event in
your past may give you a clew. Have you ever heard of a person, by name
Pauline Potter?"

The young man starts.

"Ah! I see you have," pursues Philander, dryly.

"I confess it; she was a pretty actress, but my boyish passion for her
died out when I discovered her perfidy."

"Very true; but she has never forgiven you. What harm did you do her,
boy?"

"The harm was on her side. When I found what deception she had put upon
me I simply denounced her in the presence of several who were