She entered the cosy reception-room, feeling that she was about to be admitted behind the scenes, and, woman-like, delightfully curious. A moment later, her visitor arrived. "I have kept my promise, Miss Oppner!" She turned, to greet him--and a little, quick cry escaped her. For this was not Detective-Inspector Pepys who stood, smiling, in the doorway! It was a man who was, or who seemed to be, taller than he; a slim man, having but one thing in common with the detective: his black morning-coat fitted him as perfectly as the dress-coat had fitted the inspector. An irreproachably attired man is a greater rarity than most people realise; and Zoe Oppner wondered why, even in that moment of amazement, she noted this fact. Her visitor was singularly handsome. She knew, instantly, that she had never seen one so handsome before. He was of a puzzling type, wholly unlike any European she had met, though no darker of complexion than many Americans. With his waving black hair, extraordinarily perfect features, and the light of conscious power in his large eyes, he awoke something within her that was half memory--yet not wholly so. She was vaguely afraid, but strongly attracted towards this mysterious stranger. "But," she said, staring the while as one fascinated, "you--are not Inspector Pepys!" "True!" he answered smilingly. "I am not Inspector Pepys; nor is there any such person!" The voice was different, yet somehow reminiscent. Only now, a faint, indefinable accent had crept into it. "What do you mean?" Zoe, at the idea that she had been imposed upon, grew regally indignant. She was a lovely woman, and accustomed to the homage which mankind pays to beauty. Her naturally frank, laughter-loving nature made her a charming companion; but she could be distant, scornful--could crush the most presumptuous with a glance of her eyes. Now she looked at her strange visitor with frigid dignity, and he merely smiled amusedly, as one smiles at a pretty child. "Be good enough to explain yourself. If you dared to impose upon Lady Vignoles last night--if you are not really a detective--what are you?" "That question would take too long to answer, Miss Oppner!" "I demand an answer! Who are you?" "That is another question," replied the stranger, in his soft, musical voice, "and I will try to answer it. At dinner last night I told you of a man whose fathers saw the Great Pyramid built, whose race was old when that pyramid was new. I told you of an unbroken line of kings--of kings who wore no crowns, whose throne was lost in the long ago." She closed and re-opened her right hand nervously, and a new light came into her eyes. His words had touched again, as the night before, the hidden deeps of her nature, quickening into life the mysticism that lay there. She would have spoken, but he quietly motioned her to silence--and she was silent.