f dervishes, in bazaars--which he
pictured to himself like those opened by royalties at the Queen's
Hall--in Moorish interiors surrounded by voluptuous ladies with large
oval eyes, black tresses, and Turkish trousers of spangled muslin,
flitted before his mental gaze. When the train ran upon Dover Pier, and
the white horses of the turbulent Channel foamed at his feet, he started
as one roused from a Rip Van Winkle sleep. Severe illness occupied his
whole attention for a time, and then recovery.

In Paris he dined at the buffet like one in a dream, and, at the
appointed hour, came forth to take the _rapide_ for Marseilles. He
looked for Darrell and the dressing-case. They were not to be seen.
There stood the train. Passengers were mounting into it. Old ladies
with agitated faces were buying pillows and nibbling biscuits. Elderly
gentlemen with yellow countenances and red ribands in their coats were
purchasing the _Figaro_ and the _Gil Blas_. Children with bare legs were
being hauled into compartments. Rook's agent was explaining to a muddled
tourist in a tam-o'-shanter the exact difference between the words "Oui"
and "Non" The bustle of departure was in the air, but Darrell was not
to be seen. Mr. Greyne had left him upon the platform with minute
directions as to the point from which the train would start and the hour
of its going. Yet he had vanished. The most frantic search, the most
frenzied inquiries of officials and total strangers, failed to elicit
his whereabouts, and, finally, Mr. Greyne was flung forcibly upward
into the _wagonlit_, and caught by the _controleur_ when the train was
actually moving out of the station.

A moment later he fell exhausted upon the pink-plush seat of his
compartment, realising his terrible position. He was now utterly alone;
without servant, hair-brushes, toothbrushes, razors, sponges, pajamas,
shoes. It was a solitude that might be felt. He thought of the sea
journey with no kindly hand to minister to him, the arrival in Africa
with no humble companion at his side, to wonder with him at the black
inhabitants and help him through the customs--to say nothing of the
manners. He thought of the dread homes of iniquity into which he
must penetrate by night in search of the material for the voracious
"Catherine." He had meant to take Darrell with him to them all--Darrell,
whose joyful delight in the prospect of exploring the Eastern fastnesses
of crime had been so boyish, so truly English