"It will be one of the easiest things that can be," said his visitor, "that is" (and here a shade of rather pathetic doubt crossed his face) "provided that anything of my former power yet remains unto me." "Well, never mind, sir," said Horace; "if you can't, I shall take the will for the deed." "First of all, it will be prudent to learn where Suleyman is, that I may humble myself before him and make my peace." "Yes," said Horace, gently, "I would. I should make a point of that, sir. Not _now_, you know. He might be in bed. To-morrow morning." "This is a strange place that I am in, and I know not yet in what direction I should seek him. But till I have found him, and justified myself in his sight, and had my revenge upon Jarjarees, mine enemy, I shall know no rest." "Well, but go to bed now, like a sensible old chap," said Horace, soothingly, anxious to prevent this poor demented Asiatic from falling into the hands of the police. "Plenty of time to go and call on Suleyman to-morrow." "I will search for him, even unto the uttermost ends of the earth!" "That's right--you're sure to find him in one of them. Only, don't you see, it's no use starting to-night--the last trains have gone long ago." As he spoke, the night wind bore across the square the sound of Big Ben striking the quarters in Westminster Clock Tower, and then, after a pause, the solemn boom that announced the first of the small hours. "To-morrow," thought Ventimore, "I'll speak to Mrs. Rapkin, and get her to send for a doctor and have him put under proper care--the poor old boy really isn't fit to go about alone!" "I will start now--at once," insisted the stranger "for there is no time to be lost." "Oh, come!" said Horace, "after so many thousand years, a few hours more or less won't make any serious difference. And you _can't_ go out now--they've shut up the house. Do let me take you upstairs to your room, sir." "Not so, for I must leave thee for a season, O young man of kind conduct. But may thy days be fortunate, and the gate never cease to be repaired, and the nose of him that envieth thee be rubbed in the dust, for love for thee hath entered into my heart, and if it be permitted unto me, I will cover thee with the veils of my protection!" As he finished this harangue the speaker seemed, to Ventimore's speechless amazement, to slip through the wall behind him. At all events, he had left the room somehow--and Horace found himself alone. He rubbed the back of his head, which began to be painful. "He can't really have vanished through the wall," he said to himself. "That's too absurd. The fact is, I'm over-excited this evening--and no wonder, after all that's happened. The best thing I can do is to go to bed at once." Which he accordingly proceeded to do. CHAPTER V CARTE BLANCHE