the Burke deed box in the
late Mr Burrows' time; and, when closely pressed and questioned, the
present Burrows recalled having seen it there since he came into the
partnership. Then the question arose--Who could profit by its
disappearance? The answer was, if a former will were in existence,
Philipson--my uncle's son-in-law, who was his original heir--would. But
the old will is not forthcoming either, and Philipson is done both ways,
for he neither gets the property left him by the first will, nor the
allowance secured to him by the second. Indeed, he is barely existing
on small sums advanced him by a speculative solicitor on the chance of
one of the wills turning up. I saw a lot of Philipson: such a jolly
nose--like a big red truffle. He said he was certain the late head
clerk--a chap of Egyptian or Arab extraction, named Daireh--had got the
will, or wills, having abstracted them after my uncle's death, because
he had hinted at being able to tell him how to find them, and had
appointed the Sunday to meet him, but had failed to keep tryst, and had
disappeared. All this had to be wormed out of Philipson, who spoke very
reluctantly at first. And I suspect he is as big a rascal as the other,
and was in a plot with him to destroy will Number 2, and prove will
Number 1, only the other would not trust him, but wanted money down.
The reason he did not keep his appointment is evident, for the police
wanted him for forgery about a fortnight later, and of course he had
found out that he was discovered, and made tracks at once without
waiting to come to terms with Philipson. The police have tried to track
him everywhere without hitting on a ghost of a clue beyond London, from
which place a letter was sent to his employers. But I know the
direction in which to look for him."

"You do?" cried Kavanagh, much interested.

"Yes. The ugly beggar was vain, and liked being photographed, so there
were lots of his likenesses extant. I was certain I knew the face from
the first, and I soon was able to associate it with that of a fellow I
passed on the Nile just above the Second Cataract. He was going up, and
I was coming down, and I did not see very much of him; but I would swear
to his ugly face anywhere."

"And you heard where he was going?" asked Strachan.

"Yes, to Berber. And I know natives who know him, so I have a good
chance of tracking him; and if he don't produce the will he shall eat
stick."

"Let him eat a li