he whispers:

"Have you noticed it?"

"What?" asks the young doctor.

"His style of address, my boy; same words exactly that were used at the
hotel by the man who brought you the news."

"Jove! you are right, professor. I imagine that must be the formal style
in this country."

Philander chuckles.

"You'll have to guess closer to the mark than that, my boy, when you
want to strike the truth."

"What can you mean, sir?"

"Bless you, it's the same man. Notice his walk; doesn't he hold himself
just so?"

"Professor, you're wide awake. I admit all you say. There is a wonderful
resemblance. Yes, I believe it is the same man. Really, this affair
grows more and more interesting. Talk about your comedies, they're not
in it."

Further conversation is cut off by the fact of their guide ushering them
into a room that is lighted with an antique lamp.

"Wait here," he says, and disappears.

John Craig manages to retain his self-possession, though it gives him
a thrill to think that he may be looking upon a scene which was only
recently graced by the presence of the being whom he seeks far and
wide--his mother.

Now some one comes; they hear the rustle of skirts, and know it is no
man who advances.

"Steady, boy," warns Philander, knowing the sensation produced in John's
quivering, expectant heart; "steady it is now, and keep your wits
bright."

"Steady it is," replies John, who knows it is only right he should brace
up.

Then the party advancing enters the apartment, and looking up the two
men behold one who is garbed in a peculiar habit, the insignia of an
order; a heavy black gown, corded at the waist, with a white flowing
collar, and a strange bonnet both black and white, the size of which
is astonishing.

Her face they do not see, as a gauze vail hides it from mortal view.

In this city of orders, where the nations of the world seem to vie with
each other in creating strange commanderies, it is nothing to meet with
such a garb.

John Craig is a gentleman; he rises from his chair and bows; ditto
Philander, who keeps a little in his rear, as becomes a sensible,
well-behaved "shadow."

The dress of the woman gives John an idea she is at the head of some
charitable organization which has set rules for dress and duty, although
his knowledge of such matters is not most profound.

"Madame, pardon this intrusion," he says, at the same time wondering
whether she is English, French, or a native of Malta.