CHAPTER I
"A GENTLEMAN to see you, Doctor."
From across the common a clock sounded the half-hour.
"Ten-thirty!" I said. "A late visitor. Show him up, if you please."
I pushed my writing aside and tilted the lamp-shade, as footsteps
sounded on the landing. The next moment I had jumped to my feet,
for a tall, lean man, with his square-cut, clean-shaven face
sun-baked to the hue of coffee, entered and extended both hands,
with a cry:
"Good old Petrie! Didn't expect me, I'll swear!"
It was Nayland Smith--whom I had thought to be in Burma!
"Smith," I said, and gripped his hands hard, "this is a delightful surprise!
Whatever--however--"
"Excuse me, Petrie!" he broke in. "Don't put it down to the sun!"
And he put out the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
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