“Well, Mr. Clayton! This is charming of you! I have thought of you so often lately” (I grinned to myself, staring at him), “and wondered what had become of you! I have been intending to try to locate you!” Could all this be coincidence? I wondered. Or was the man laughing at me? It was impossible to tell from his glittering and quite meaningless smile. “That’s mighty nice of you!” I told him. “But if you tried to find me,” I added, laughing, “you did not succeed very well.” I saw no reason why two could not play at the game of double meanings. He shook his head. “No, but this is even better, you see. For you have come to me!” He had me there. “Yes,” I answered, “I have been bored with a lot of irritating details of which life seems to be made up nowadays, and I thought of you at once as an antidote. So here I am!” He bowed. “As kind as ever! Let me give you a cocktail, shall I? I have something rather special which I think will surprise you.” If this was meant to get me to display hesitation about accepting his booze, it failed. “I don’t know anything I’d like better,” I answered, “if you’ll join me. I can’t have you bothering to mix a drink for me alone.” He gave me a swift, noncommittal glance. “But of course I’ll join you,” he answered, and went away to mix the drinks. When he returned, we fell into an animated conversation over the cocktails, which were excellent, and presently he asked me of his own volition whether I had found anything like the type of entertainment in which I had expressed an interest to him. “Not a thing,” I told him. “And, frankly, that’s a minor reason for looking you up again. I hoped you might have heard of something new and amusing, such as this modern Baghdad ought to offer, if one could only find it.” He laughed. “Your coming to me to-day is certainly a coincidence, my friend. For I am going to just such an entertainment this very night.” I leaned forward eagerly. “Can you take me with you?” I urged. “I assure you, you will save my life if you do!” “Hardly that,” he laughed, shaking his head. “But of course I can take you, if you have the—er—price, as I think you call it. The admission fee is 200 dollars.” “Phew!” I whistled. “Is that a season ticket?” “No, that is for one evening. And I think you will find,” he added, turning away to the tray, “that one evening will go a long way. Everything else will seem tame to you afterwards.” I thought that the conversation was taking a distinctly gruesome tone; but of course I did not tell him so. “I must go home and dress then,” I told him. “What time do we start and where do I meet you?” He laughed again. “Come, come, there is no need to dress, I am going as I am. We have a long drive ahead of us, and we shall have to start in an hour at the latest. Besides that, I am not going to let you leave again, now that you have come at last!”