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Updated: June 14, 2025
It would be wearisome to the reader to tell him how often I looked at my watch and thought of the precious hours that were flying; neither will I speak of my hopes and fears with regard to this idea of finding Kaffar's whereabouts by means of clairvoyance. Suffice it to say I was in a state of feverish anxiety when we drove up to the professor's door that night, about half-past nine.
Voltaire picked up something from the ground and looked at it. "Kaffar's," he said. "Look, Mr. Blake; do you recognize this?" I looked and saw a finely-worked neckcloth, on which was written in Arabic characters the words "Aba Wady Kaffar." It had every appearance of being soiled by severe wrenching, and on it were spots of blood.
A strange gleam was emitted from his light grey eyes, while his lips became ashy pale. Then I saw him grip Kaffar's hand. Instantly the room was peopled with a strange crowd. Dark forms seemed to come from Voltaire's eyes; peculiar influences were all around me.
Evidently he wanted the young lady to believe in your guilt, and thus give him greater chance of success. Ah, he is a clever man." "But," I asked anxiously, "can you tell me Kaffar's whereabouts now?" "No, I cannot that is, not to-day." "When, then?" "I may not be able to do so at all. It all depends on one man." "Who is he?" "Simon Slowden, I think you called him." "Simon Slowden!
"If I mistake not, this Egyptian gentleman is acquainted with a man in England whom I know, and I have a message of great importance to convey." "To Mr. Kaffar's advantage?" asked the Italian, eagerly. No words can express what I felt as the man unthinkingly uttered Kaffar's name. I had not come on a false report. The Egyptian bore the name of the man I wanted to find.
Directly after dinner I went out, to try to find Kaffar's whereabouts; but although Turin is beautifully built, and the streets very straight, I found I had to put off my search until the morning. Every hour of waiting was, as the reader may imagine, of great anxiety to me. I was now making my great move. If I missed in this, all was lost. Was Kaffar in Turin? Was he or had he been there?
I had again been acting under the influence of this man's power. By some means he had made me the slave of his will, and I had unknowingly killed Kaffar, and he, like the fiend he was, had come to sweep me out of his road. Perchance, too, Kaffar's death might serve him in good stead.
He often sought to turn a laugh against me; he even greeted me with a sneer. I took no notice of him, however never replied to his insulting words; and this evidently maddened him. The truth was, I was afraid lest there should be some design in Voltaire's apparent friendliness and Kaffar's evident desire to arouse enmity, and so I determined to be on my guard.
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