“My dear Miss Pelham, you are very good to warn me,” said he easily.  “I have nothing to fear.  The men are quite friendly and—­” He stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing in thought.  A moment later he arose and walked to the little window overlooking the square.  When he turned to her again his face wore a more serious expression.  “Perhaps there is something in what you say.  I’m grateful to you for preparing me.”  It had suddenly come to mind that the night before he had seen a man skulking in the vicinity of the bungalow.  His body servant, Selim, had told him that very morning that this same man, a native, had stood for hours among the trees, apparently watching the house.

“I just thought I’d tell you,” murmured Miss Pelham nervously, “I—­we don’t want to see you get into trouble—­none of us.”

“Thank you,” After a long pause, he went on, lowering his voice:  “Miss Pelham, I have had a hard time here, in more ways than I care to speak of.  It may interest you to know that I had decided to resign next month and go home.  I’m a living man, and a living man objects to a living death.  It’s worse than I had thought, I came out here in the hope that there would be excitement, life, interest.  The only excitement I get is when the ships call twice a month.  I’ve even prayed that our beastly old volcano might erupt and do all sorts of horrible things.  It might, at least, toss old Mr. Skaggs back into our midst; that would be a relief, even if he came up as a chunk of lava.  But nothing happens—­nothing!  These Persian fairies you talk about—­bah!  I said I’d decided to resign, to get out of the infernal place.  But I’ve changed my mind.  I’ll stick my time out.  I’ve got three months longer to stay and I’ll stay.  If Von Blitz thinks he can drive me out, he’s mistaken.  I’ll be here after you and your friends up there have sailed away, Miss Pelham—­God bless you, you’re all white!—­and I’ll be here when Von Blitz and his wives are dancing to the tunes I play.  Now let’s get back to work.”

“All right; but please be careful,” she urged.  “Don’t let them catch you unprepared.  If you need help, I know the men at the chateau will come at your call.”

One of those bright, enveloping smiles swept over his face—­the smile that always carried the little stenographer away with it.  A merry chuckle escaped his lips.  “Thanks, but you forget that I can call out the American and British navies.”

She looked doubtful.  “I know,” she said, “but I’m afraid Von Blitz is scuttling your ships.”

“If poor little Bowles can conquer them with a red jacket that’s too small for him, to say nothing of the fit it would give to the British army, I think I can scrape up a garment or two that will startle them in another way.  Please don’t worry about me.  I shall call my clients together and have it out with them.  If Von Blitz is working in the dark, I’ll compel him to show his hand.  And, Miss Pelham,” he concluded very slowly, “I’ll promise to use a club, if necessary, to drive the Persian ladies away.  So please rest easy on my account.”