The fellow spoke like an inspired maniac.  If he meant half what he said,—­and if he did not then his looks and his tones belied him! —­then a promising future bade fair to be in store for Mr Lessingham,—­and, also, circumstances being as they were, for Marjorie.  It was this latter reflection which gave me pause.  Either this imprecatory fanatic would have to be disposed of, by Lessingham himself, or by someone acting on his behalf, and, so far as their power of doing mischief went, his big words proved empty windbags, or Marjorie would have to be warned that there was at least one passage in her suitor’s life, into which, ere it was too late, it was advisable that inquiry should be made.  To allow Marjorie to irrevocably link her fate with the Apostle’s, without being first of all made aware that he was, to all intents and purposes, a haunted man—­that was not to be thought of.

‘You employ large phrases.’

My words cooled the other’s heated blood.  Once more his eyes were cast down, his hands crossed upon his breast

‘I crave my lord’s pardon.  My wound is ever new.’

’By the way, what was the secret history, this morning, of that little incident of the cockroach?’

He glanced up quickly.

‘Cockroach?—­I know not what you say.’

‘Well,—­was it beetle, then?’

‘Beetle!’

He seemed, all at once, to have lost his voice,—­the word was gasped.

’After you went we found, upon a sheet of paper, a capitally executed drawing of a beetle, which, I fancy, you must have left behind you,—­Scaraboeus sacer, wasn’t it?’

‘I know not what you talk of.’

’Its discovery seemed to have quite a singular effect on Mr Lessingham.  Now, why was that?’

‘I know nothing.’

’Oh yes you do,—­and, before you go, I mean to know something too.’

The man was trembling, looking this way and that, showing signs of marked discomfiture.  That there was something about that ancient scarab, which figures so largely in the still unravelled tangles of the Egyptian mythologies, and the effect which the mere sight of its cartouch—­for the drawing had resembled something of the kind—­had had on such a seasoned vessel as Paul Lessingham, which might be well worth my finding out, I felt convinced,—­the man’s demeanour, on my recurring to the matter, told its own plain tale.  I made up my mind, if possible, to probe the business to the bottom, then and there.

’Listen to me, my friend.  I am a plain man, and I use plain speech,—­it’s a kind of hobby I have.  You will give me the information I require, and that at once, or I will pit my magic against yours,—­in which case I think it extremely probable that you will come off worst from the encounter.’

I reached out for the lever, and the exhibition of electricity recommenced.  Immediately his tremors were redoubled.

‘My lord, I know not of what you talk.’