home. He was much impressed by this coinc_i_dence, as he called it, and begged me, if I happened down Deptford way at all, to call and see him over his brother's shop. I asked him if he knew a certain old book-store in Deptford, where I had once gotten a Bandello's _Novelle_ for four shillings, and he said he knew it well. But I think he only said this to please an obvious bibliomaniac. We parted with mutual good wishes, and I went back to the ship. And so I send it to you, trusting to my good fortune to get it through. It may never reach you, and I shall have had my labour in vain. It may be, also, that ere it see the light I shall have gone away myself, an aggrieved participant in one of the trivial disasters of the sea-affair. But whatever betide, I shall have had my shot at the alluring yet ineluctable problem of human folly. WILLIAM MCFEE. Port Said, Egypt, April 14, 1917. CONTENTS PAGE PREFACE vii CHAP. I. THE "SCALDINO" 3 II. HIS CHILDREN 16 III. A LETTER FROM WIGBOROUGH 28 IV. MISS FRAENKEL 41 V. HE COMES 56 VI. HE BEGINS HIS TALE 70 VII. DIAPORESIS 105 VIII. HE CONTINUES HIS TALE 115 IX. WE AWAIT DEVELOPMENTS 168 X. ANOTHER LETTER FROM WIGBOROUGH 279 XI. MR. CARVILLE SEES THREE GREEN LIGHTS 296 XII. THE VISION FROM THE KILLS 327 XIII. MISCELLANY 352 XIV. DISCUSSION 374 XV. CONCLUSION 398 ALIENS CHAPTER I THE "SCALDINO" Long before any of us three had seen him we had become aware of his existence, and our brains were continually busy about him. His appearance, his age, his gait, his history, his voice, even his ultimate destiny, we conjectured over and over again as one by one the evidences of his existence accumulated and developed in our consciousness. It grew to be quite a game with us, this collection of data, and filled in much of our leisure before we became acquainted with many of our neighbours. I think Bill was the first to notice something unusual about the family next door, something neither English nor American. "What do you think!" she exclaimed, coming in one morning as I was busy writing. "She's got a little iron grate on legs, and there's charcoal burning in it." "Who? Where?" I asked, coming out of my work with a start. I was composing an advertisement at the time. "Mrs. Carville," said Bill, pointing to the window.