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"And where is Kaffar?" said another voice, which I recognized as Voltaire's. "Kaffar? I I do not know." "But you have been together." "Have we?" I said vacantly. "You know you have. What is that in your hand?" I had scarcely known what I had been saying or doing up to this time, but as he spoke I looked at my hand.
I turned to follow them, but they were gone I knew not whither, and so I went back to the house determined that, if I could be nothing else, I would be Miss Forrest's protector. I had been back in the drawing-room perhaps ten minutes, when Voltaire and Kaffar returned, and apparently entered with great zest into the festivities of the evening.
Miss Forrest, we Easterns are not like you English people. You are cool and considerate; we are warm and impulsive. Kaffar was not one that could be loved by you cold people; but I loved him. We were more than brothers. I know he was faulty, I know he dared the anger of your English giant, but I did not think it would come to this. "'Come to what? she asked eagerly.
There were, as I said, eight days in which to find Kaffar and bring him to London, counting the day on which we started our journey. It was Wednesday; by the following Wednesday, at midnight, I must prove to Gertrude that Voltaire was a villain and a liar. It should be done easily. It was but little more than a thirty hours' ride to Turin that is, providing everything went smoothly.
"He's speaking French. I did not know Kaffar knew French; perhaps he's learned it lately. The words mean that he will stay there for some days." "Can you describe the street in which this hotel is?" continued Von Virchow. Simon began to describe, but we could make nothing of it. "We can't understand," replied the professor.
Still by Drearwater Pond. No phantoms, no shadow, nothing unreal, save the memory of that which I have but dimly described. That was but as a terrible nightmare an awful dream. Where was Kaffar? I could not tell. Certainly he was not near; but two other forms stood by me, one bearing a lantern. "Is it you, Justin?" said a voice. "It is I, Tom," I said, looking vacantly around.
For days I tried to think what to do, without avail. Kaffar had not been at the Casino; he had not stayed at any of the hotels. Where was he, then? I began to entertain the idea that he had gone to Egypt as he had said. I would do my best to find out. Accordingly, I went to all the seaports along the coast of France and Italy from which he would be likely to set sail for Egypt.
In England the streets were muddy, and a yellow fog hung over London, and yet in forty-eight hours we were beneath sunny skies, we were breathing a comparatively humid air. But I must not stay to write about this, for my story is not about Italian scenery, or beautiful sights of any sort. It is my work now to tell about my search after Kaffar.
Kaffar will remember he's speaking to a lady, I'm sure," said Tom Temple. "Pardon me," said Kaffar, excitedly; "I forgot I was in England, where men are the slaves of the ladies. With us it is different. We speak and they obey. I forgot I was not in Egypt. I have done very wrong. I implore the lady's pardon."
So far, not one step had been taken to prove whether Kaffar was dead or alive, and although I knew nothing of a detective's business, I did not like taking any one into my confidence. I resolved to do all that was to be done myself. In spite of everything, I spent a pleasant evening at Temple Hall.
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