"And you don't know of any one who would give her poison, under pretense of its being a charm or beautifier?" "Oh, don't! Don't ask me!" and, with a face white as ashes, Pauline rose from her chair. "You must excuse me, Mr. Stone. I am ill,--I don't feel well--. Really I must beg to be excused." Almost before he realized what she was doing, Pauline had left him, glided to the elevator, and he heard the door of the cage clang to, even as he followed her. "Poor child!" he said to himself, "poor dear little girl!" and going in quest of Mrs. MacDonald, he asked her to go to Pauline. "You will perhaps find her greatly disturbed," he said, "but I assure you it is nothing that can be avoided or remedied. Please, Mrs. MacDonald, just try to comfort and cheer her, without asking the cause of her sadness." After a straightforward look into Stone's eyes, which was as frankly returned, Mrs. MacDonald nodded her head and hastened away. As Stone had predicted she found Pauline sobbing hysterically. "What is it, dear?" she queried, "tell Mrs. Mac. Or, if you'd rather not, at least tell me what I can do for you. Don't, don't cry so!" But no words could she get from the sobbing girl, except an insistent demand for a telegraph blank. This was provided, and Pauline wrote a message to Carr Loria telling him that Fleming Stone had come to Cairo. This she ordered despatched at once. Then she begged Mrs. MacDonald to leave her, as she wished to go to bed and try to forget her troubles in sleep. Meantime, Fleming Stone left the hotel and proceeded straight to Carr Loria's rooms. He expressed surprise when the janitor informed him of Mr. Loria's absence. "Well, never mind," he said: "he'll be back in a few days. But I'll just go in and write a note and leave it on his desk for him." The janitor hesitated, but after a transference of some coin of the realm was effected, he cheerfully unlocked the door and Stone found himself in Loria's apartment. It was a comfortable place, even luxurious, in a mannish way, and the Detective looked about with interest. As he had proposed, he went to the writing table and taking a sheet of paper from the rack, wrote a short note. But instead of leaving it, he put it in his pocket, saying to the watchful janitor that perhaps it would be better to mail it. Then, he stepped into Loria's bedroom, but so quickly did he step out again, that the janitor hadn't time to reprove or forbid him. "All right," he said, as he started to leave. "When Mr. Loria returns you can tell him I called." This permission went far to allay the janitor's fears that he had been indiscreet; for Carr Loria was not a man who brooked interference with his affairs or belongings. XXIV CONFESSION