They did not reach London until the second morning after their departure from Toulon. George was disgusted and alarmed to find that he could scarcely stand; but he resisted the suggestion that he should take a day’s rest, being afraid that if he once yielded to his bodily weakness, it would be a long time before he was able to get about again. So he left Ella and her father at the hotel where they put up, and drove to Mary Street to learn whether Rahas still lived there. This step he took with Ella’s full knowledge; he should fulfil his promise, he told her, and keep his hands off the Oriental merchant until after he had found Nouna; but he must set about his search in his own way. No. 36, Mary Street looked the same as ever, except that, during the eleven months which had passed since George first drove up to the door and dashing up the dingy staircase came suddenly upon an _Arabian Nights_’ nook in murky London, the lower windows had acquired a thicker coating of grime, and the board with the names “Rahas and Fanah” had lost its freshness of new paint; the brass vases and lanterns, the Arabian gun, the inlaid table, the Indian figures were still there, and the fact that the firm did not depend upon the chance custom of passers-by was more patent than ever. George stumbled as he got out of the hansom, and felt, almost without seeing, for the bell. Fatigue, weakness, and the sleeplessness caused by intense excitement had preyed upon his body and stimulated his imagination till on this, the first day of his return to his own country, he was like a man walking in his sleep, and saw faces and heard voices invisible and inaudible to all but him. Nouna, as he saw her first, sleeping like a fairy princess, amidst gorgeous surroundings; the strange doctor, whose warning against the girl’s dangerous charms rang again in his ears; the dark-faced Rahas and his pretensions to occult powers--all these recollections chasing each other through his feverishly excited mind, dulled his faculties to the cold reality of present experience, and when the door was opened by a woman whose face was unknown to him, he stood before her stupidly, without realising that it was he who had summoned her. When she asked him what he wanted, he pulled himself together, and asked if Rahas, the merchant, still lived there. “Yes, he lives here, but he ain’t here to-day; he’s gone to Plymouth, and won’t be home for a week or so. You can see the old gentleman if you like, or letters are sent to him.”