"The information upon which I now am acting," he said, "reached me to-night in the form of a letter, bearing no address and no signature. The suppression of this vile _hashish_ traffic is so near to my heart that I immediately secured the necessary powers to search the premises named, and was on my way hither when I observed you (although I did not at once recognize you) in the act of escaping from a group of my servants who had been detailed, some weeks ago, to trace a missing damsel known to be in Cairo. Concerning your share in that affair I await a full statement from your own lips; concerning your share in this I can only say that unless Ahmed Ben Tawwab comes forward by to-morrow and admits his guilt, I must apply to the British agent for a formal inquiry. Is there anything that you would wish to say, or any action you desire that I should take?" I turned to him in the dim light. Habitually I am undemonstrative, especially with natives. But there was a nobility and an implacable sense of justice about this singular _religieux_ which conquered me completely. "Abû Tabâh," I said, "I thank you for your friendship. I have committed a grave folly; but I am neither an abductor nor a _hashish_ dealer. This is the work of an unknown enemy, and already I have a theory respecting his identity." "Can I aid you--or do you prefer that I leave you to pursue this clue in your own way?" he asked tactfully. "I prefer to work alone." "The affair is truly mysterious," he admitted, "and I purpose to spend the night in meditation respecting it. After the hour of morning prayer, therefore, I will visit you. _Lîltâk sa'îda_, Kernaby Pasha." "_Lîltâk sa'îda_, Abû Tabâh," I said, as he stepped out of the door. Slowly and stately the _imám_ passed down the street; and the _ginnee_ of solitude reclaimed that deserted spot. A night watchman, _nebbut_ on shoulder, passed along the distant Sukkarîya. A dog howled.