"Now, Johannes, I have something for you which ought to make you very happy," said Van Lieverlee, at the same time taking from a pretty, red portfolio, that smelled delightfully like Russia leather, a note embellished with a crown and sealed with blue wax. "This was written by Countess Dolores with her own hand, and I know what it contains. Treat it with respect." Before handing it over to him, Van Lieverlee, with a sweeping flourish, pressed it to his own lips. Johannes felt himself to be a dolt; for he knew it would be an impossibility for him to imitate that. The note contained a very brief, though cordial, invitation to stay at her home sometime, when she should be with her children, at her country-seat in England. There was, too, within the note, a pretty bit of paper. Johannes had never seen its like. It meant money. "How kind of her!" he exclaimed rapturously. He felt greatly honored. Immediately, however, his thoughts turned toward Markus--toward Marjon and Keesje. How about them? Something must be done about it; to decline was impossible. "Well?" said Van Lieverlee. "You do not appear to be half pleased about it. Or do not you believe it yet? It really is not a joke!" "Oh, no!" said Johannes. "I know it is not ... but...." "Your friend may go with you, you know; or does she not care to?" "I have not asked her yet," said Johannes, "for, you see, we have ... we have finally found him." "What do you mean? w hat are you talking about? Speak out plainly, boy. You need never keep secrets from me. "It is no secret, sir," said Johannes, greatly embarrassed. "Then why are you stuttering so? And why do you say 'sir'? Did I not write you my name? Or do you reject my offer of brotherhood?" "I will accept it, gladly, but I have still another brother that I think a great deal of. It is he whom we are seeking--my comrade and I. And now we have found him." "A real, ordinary brother?" "Oh, no!" said Johannes. And then, after a moment of hesitation, softly, but with emphasis, "It is ... Markus.... Do you know whom I mean?" "Markus? Who is Markus?" asked Van Lieverlee, with some impatience, as if completely mystified. "I do not know who he is," replied Johannes, in a baffled manner. "I hoped that you might know because you are so clever, and have seen so much." Then he related what had happened to him after he had fallen in with the dark figure, on the way to the city where mankind was--with its sorrows. Van Lieverlee listened, staring into space at first, with a rather incredulous and impatient countenance, now and then giving Johannes a scrutinizing look. At last he smiled. Then, slowly and decisively, he said, "It is very clear who he is." "Who is he?" asked Johannes in breathless expectancy. "Well, a Mahatma, of course--a member of the sacred brotherhood from Thibet. We will surely introduce him, also, to the Pleiades. He will feel quite at home there."