“By the look of things I should guess there are plenty of people under a cloud in Pera.  But that English feller stands out even here.  This girl is certainly a first-class wriggler, if she’s nothing else.”

They did not mention the stranger again that night.  But John had not forgotten him, and when he arrived at their hotel next day he at once opened his capacious mouth and let out the following information: 

“The gentleman’s name is Denton, his other name is Mervyn, he is three days in Constantinople, he lives in Hughes’s Hotel in Pera, a very poor house where chic people they never goes, he is out all day and always walkin’, he will not take a carriage, and he is never tired, Nicholas Gounaris—­the Greek guide—­he is droppin’ but the gentleman he does not mind, he only sayin’ if you cannot walk find me another guide what can, every night he is out, too, and he is goin’ to Stamboul when it is dark, he is afraid of nothin’ and goin’ where travelers they never go, one night Gounaris he had to show the traveler—­”

But at this point Ellis shut John up.

“That’ll do,” he observed.  “You’re a diligent rascal, John.  One must say that.  But we aren’t a couple of spies, and we don’t want to hear any more about that feller.”

And John, without bearing any malice, went off to complete his arrangements for the journey to Brusa.

Two days later, Mrs. Clarke, who was at Buyukderer in a villa she had taken for the summer months, but who had come into Constantinople to do some shopping, saw “Mervyn Denton” in a side street close to the British Embassy.  Those distressed eyes of hers were very observant.  There were many people in the street, and “Denton,” who was alone, was several yards away from her, and was walking with his back towards her; but she immediately recognized him, quickened her steps till she was close to him, and then said: 

“Dion Leith!”

Dion heard the husky voice and turned round.  He did not say anything, but he took off the soft hat he was wearing.  Mrs. Clarke stared at him with the unself-conscious directness which was characteristic of her.  She saw Dion for the first time since the tragedy which had changed his life, but she had written to him more than once.  Her last letter had come from Buyukderer.  He had answered it, but he had not told her where he was, had not even hinted to her that he might come to Constantinople.  Nevertheless, she did not now show any surprise.  She just looked at him steadily, absorbed all the change in him swiftly, and addressed herself to the new man who stood there before her.

“Come with me to the Hotel de Paris.  I’m spending the night there, and go back to-morrow to Buyukderer.  I had something to do in town.”

She had not given him her hand, and he did not attempt to take it.  He put on his hat, turned and walked at her side.  Neither of them spoke a word until they had come into the uproar of the Grande Rue, which surrounded them with a hideous privacy.  Then Mrs. Clarke said;