A motor-car appeared, as if by magic, stopped before them, and was backed right on to the pavement. The chauffeur, mounting on the roof, threw a short rope ladder across the railings. "Up!" Sheard was directed, and, nothing loath, climbed over. He was joined immediately by his companion in this night's bizarre adventures; and, almost before he realised that they were safe, he found himself seated once more in the swiftly moving car. "What's the meaning of it?" he demanded rapidly. "Fear nothing!" was the reply. "You have my word!" "But to what are you committing me?" "To nothing that shall lie very heavily upon your conscience! You have seen, to-night, something of my opportunities. With the treasures of the nation thus at my mercy, am I a common cracksman? If I were, should I not ere this have removed the portable gems of the collection? I say to you again, that no door is closed to me; yet never have I sought to enrich myself. But why should these things lie idle, when they are such all-powerful instruments?" "I don't follow you." "To-morrow all will be clear!" "Why did you blindfold me?" "Should you have followed had you seen where I led? I wish to number you among my friends. You are not of my people, and I can claim no fealty of you; but I desire your friendship. Can I count upon it?" The light of a street-lamp flashed momentarily into the car, striking a dull, venomous green spark from a curious ring which Severac Bablon wore. In some strange fashion it startled Sheard, but, in the ensuing darkness, he sought out the handsome face of his companion and found the big, luminous eyes fixed upon him. Something about the man--his daring, perhaps, his enthusiasm, his utterly mysterious purpose--appealed, suddenly, all but irresistibly. Sheard held out his hand. And withdrew it again. "To-morrow----" he began. "To-morrow you will have no choice!" "How so? You have placed yourself in my hands. I can now, if I desire, publish your description!--report all that you have told me--all that I have seen!" "You will not do so! You will be my friend, my defender in the Press. Of what you have seen to-night you will say nothing!" "Why?" "No matter! It will be so!" A silence fell between them that endured until the car pulled up before Sheard's gate. With ironic courtesy, he invited Severac Bablon to enter and partake of some refreshment after the night's excitement. With a grace that made the journalist slightly ashamed of his irony, that incomprehensible man accepted. Leaving him in the same arm-chair which he had occupied when first he set eyes upon him, Sheard went to the dining-room and returned with a siphon, a decanter, and glasses. He found Severac Bablon glancing through an edition of Brugsch's "Egypt Under the Pharaohs." He replaced the book on the shelf as Sheard entered.