Alwyn looked at him half-bewildered, half-incredulous,—­he could hardly believe his own eyes.  It seemed such an altogether amazing thing to meet this devout and grave Chaldean philosopher, this mystic monk of the Caucasus, here in the very centre, as it were, of the world’s business, traffic, and pleasure; one might as well have expected to find a haloed saint in the whirl of a carnival masquerade!  Incongruous?  Out of keeping?—­Yes, certainly he was,—­ for though clad in the plain, conventional garb to which the men of the present day are doomed by the fiat of commerce and custom, the splendid dignity and picturesqueness of his fine personal appearance was by no means abated, and it was just this that marked him out, and made of him as wonderful a figure in London as though some god or evangelist should suddenly pass through a wilderness of chattering apes and screaming vultures.

“But how and when did you come?”—­asked Alwyn presently, recovering from his first glad shock of surprise—­“You see how genuine is my astonishment,—­why, I thought you were a perpetually vowed recluse,—­that you never went into the world at all, ...”

“Neither I do”—­rejoined Heliobas—­“save when strong necessity demands.  But our Order is not so ‘inclosed’ that, if Duty calls, we cannot advance to its beckoning, and there are certain times when both I and those of my fraternity mingle with men in common, undistinguished from the ordinary inhabitants of cities either by dress, customs, or manners,—­as you see!”—­and he laughingly touched his overcoat, the dark rough cloth of which was relieved by a broad collar and revers of rich sealskin,—­“Would you not take me for a highly respectable brewer, par example, conscious that his prowess in the making of beer has entitled him, not only to an immediate seat in Parliament, but also to a Dukedom in prospective?”

Alwyn, smiled at the droll inapplicability of this comparison,—­ and Heliobas cheerfully continued—­“I am on the wing just now,—­ bound for Mexico.  I had business in London, and arrived here two days since,—­two days more will see me again en voyage.  I am glad to have met you thus by chance, for I did not know your address, and though I might have obtained that through your publishers, I hesitated about it, not being quite certain as to whether a letter or visit from me might be welcome.”

“Surely,”—­began Alwyn, and then he paused, a flush rising to his brow as he remembered how obstinately he had doubted and suspected this man’s good faith and intention toward him, and how he had even received his farewell benediction at Dariel with more resentment than gratitude.

“Everywhere I hear great things of you, Mr. Alwyn,”—­went on Heliobas gently, taking no notice of his embarrassment—­“Your fame is now indeed unquestionable!  With all my heart I congratulate you, and wish you long life and health to enjoy the triumph of your genius!”

Alwyn smiled, and turning, fixed his clear, soft eyes full on the speaker.