I was still more mystified when, on reaching Cairo, I was unable to find Regal, Ialla, or any one else connected with the undertaking, nor could I get the slightest trace of them. I located the house in which I had been so charmingly admitted into the conspiracy, but the people living there were strangers, so far as I was permitted to observe or could ascertain, and they insisted they knew nothing at all concerning the previous occupants. If I could have searched the house I might have found out differently, but that was out of the question. Here was Egyptian mystery beyond what I had bargained for. It was as though I had been roughly awakened from a delightfully realistic dream. The only theory on which I could explain the puzzle was that the government had in some way learned of the plot, in consequence of which every one identified with it had disappeared, leaving it to me to take the hint and do likewise. In the hope of seeing Ialla again and determined to secure some definite clue as to just what had happened in my absence, I waited around for two weeks or more, until I encountered the old friend who, I knew, was responsible for my connection with the conspiracy. I did not dissemble, as I had before, but took him to my room, told him the riddle, and asked him the answer. I did not expect him to admit anything and was not disappointed. What he said, in substance, was this: “Of course I know nothing about the plot of which you have told me. If what you say is true I should say that you have been making something of a fool of yourself over this Ialla and that you have only yourself to blame for the abrupt ending which seems to have been reached. You are very shrewd and far-sighted and I will admit that ordinarily you are not much moved by sentiment, but this black-eyed beauty seems to have carried you off your feet. These women are the greatest flirts in the world. There is nothing they enjoy so much as clandestine meetings at which they can listen to passionate protestations of love, and when these come from a foreigner their cup of happiness is full. You thought Ialla was in love with you, but she was only having a good time with you, and she has taken a lot of pride in telling her friends about your meetings at their afternoon gatherings in the old cemetery for the exchange of gossip. She had no idea of marrying you, an unbeliever, you may be sure of that. It may be that she thought she was stimulating you to deeds of heroism in the rescue of her uncle, but, if she considered that at all, it was a secondary matter. The men you were dealing with have the contempt of their race for all women. They cannot understand how any man can become so enamoured of a woman, no matter how beautiful, as to let it interfere with his business. When a man who, for the time being, has the leading role in a prospective revolution, so far forgets himself as to waste a week of valuable time in running after a flirtatious female