suddenly stopped short in his talk, cast a reproachful look at his companion, and, with an abrupt nod to myself, turned and marched off alone across the street.  I heard afterwards that he was popularly supposed to be as much afraid of a woman as most people are of a mad dog, which accounted for his precipitate retreat.  I cannot say, however, that young Vincey showed much aversion to feminine society on this occasion.  Indeed I remember laughing, and remarking to my friend at the time that he was not the sort of man whom it would be desirable to introduce to the lady one was going to marry, since it was exceedingly probable that the acquaintance would end in a transfer of her affections.  He was altogether too good-looking, and, what is more, he had none of that consciousness and conceit about him which usually afflicts handsome men, and makes them deservedly disliked by their fellows.

That same evening my visit came to an end, and this was the last I saw or heard of “Charon” and “the Greek god” for many a long day.  Indeed, I have never seen either of them from that hour to this, and do not think it probable that I shall.  But a month ago I received a letter and two packets, one of manuscript, and on opening the first found that it was signed by “Horace Holly,” a name that at the moment was not familiar to me.  It ran as follows:—­

“——­ College, Cambridge, May 1, 18—­

“My dear Sir,—­You will be surprised, considering the very slight nature of our acquaintance, to get a letter from me.  Indeed, I think I had better begin by reminding you that we once met, now some five years ago, when I and my ward Leo Vincey were introduced to you in the street at Cambridge.  To be brief and come to my business.  I have recently read with much interest a book of yours describing a Central African adventure.  I take it that this book is partly true, and partly an effort of the imagination.  However this may be, it has given me an idea.  It happens, how you will see in the accompanying manuscript (which together with the Scarab, the ‘Royal Son of the Sun,’ and the original sherd, I am sending to you by hand), that my ward, or rather my adopted son Leo Vincey and myself have recently passed through a real African adventure, of a nature so much more marvellous than the one which you describe, that to tell the truth I am almost ashamed to submit it to you lest you should disbelieve my tale.  You will see it stated in this manuscript that I, or rather we, had made up our minds not to make this history public during our joint lives.  Nor should we alter our determination were it not for a circumstance which has recently arisen.  We are for reasons that, after perusing this manuscript, you may be able to guess, going away again this time to Central Asia where, if anywhere upon this earth, wisdom is to be found, and we anticipate that our sojourn there will be a long one.  Possibly we shall not return.  Under these altered conditions it has become a question