"Hallo! Hallo! What the devil's the matter?" cried a voice; and I found I had disturbed from his slumbers an unnoticed Colonel of British Cavalry.

"A thousand pardons!" said I. "I thought I was alone, and gave vent to the feelings of the moment."

Colonel Bunnion stretched himself and joined me.

"That's the worst of this place," he said. "It's so liverish. One lolls about and sleeps all day long, and one's liver gets like a Strasburg goose's and plays Old Harry with one's temper. Why one should come here when there are pheasants to be shot in England, I don't know."

"Neither your liver nor your temper seem to be much affected, Colonel,"

said I, "for you've been violently awakened from a sweet sleep and are in a most amiable frame of mind."

He laughed, suggested exercise, the Briton's panacea for all ills, and took me for a walk. When we returned at dusk, and after I had had tea before the fire (for December evenings in Algiers are chilly) in one of the pretty Moorish alcoves of the lounge, my good humour was restored. I viewed our pursuit of Captain Vauvenarde in its right aspect--that of a veritable Snark-Hunt of which I was the Bellman--and the name "Lola"

curled itself round my heart with the same grateful sensation of comfort as the warm China tea. After all, it was only as Lola that I thought of her. The name fitted her personality, which Brandt did not. Out of "Brandt" I defy you to get any curvilinear suggestion. I reflected dreamily that it would be pleasant to walk with her among the roses in the sunshine and to drink tea with her in dusky Moorish alcoves. I also thought, with an enjoyable spice of malice, of what the retired Colonels and elderly maiden ladies would have to say about Lola when she arrived.

They should have a gorgeous time.

So light-hearted did I become that, the next evening, while I was dressing for dinner, I did not frown when the cha.s.seur brought me up the huge trilingual visiting-card of Professor Anastasius Papadopoulos.

"Show the gentleman up," said I.

Rogers handed me my black tie and began to gather together discarded garments so as to make the room tidy for the visitor. It was a comfortable bed-sitting-room, with the bed in an alcove and a tiny dressing-room attached. A wood fire burned on the hearth on each side of which was an armchair. Presently there came a knock at the door. Rogers opened it and admitted Papadopoulos, who forthwith began to execute his usual manoeuvres of salutation. Rogers stood staring and open-mouthed at the apparition. It took all his professional training in imperturbability to enable him to make a decent exit. This increased my good humour. I grasped the dwarf's hand.

"My dear Professor, I am delighted to see you. Pray excuse my receiving you in this unceremonious fashion, and sit down by the fire."

I hastily completed my toilette by stuffing my watch, letter-case, loose change and handkerchief into my pockets, and took a seat opposite him.

"It is I," said he politely, "who must apologise for this untimely call.

I have wanted to pay my respects to you since I arrived in Algiers, but till now I have had no opportunity."

"Allow me," said I, "to disembarra.s.s you of your hat."

I took the high-crowned, flat-brimmed thing which he was nursing somewhat nervously on his knees, and put it on the table. He murmured that I was "_Sehr aimable_."

"And the charming Monsieur Saupiquet, how is he?" I asked.

He drew out his gilt-embossed pocket-book, and from it extracted an envelope.

"This," said he, handing it to me, "is the receipt. I have to thank you again for regulating the debt, as it has enabled me to transact with Monsieur Saupiquet the business on which I summoned him from Toulon. He is the most obstinate, pig-headed camel that ever lived, and I believe he has returned to Toulon in the best of health. No, thank you," he added, refusing my offer of cigarettes, "I don't smoke. It disturbs the perfect adjustment of my nerves, and so imperils my gigantic combinations. It is also distasteful to my cats."

"You must miss them greatly," said I.

He sighed--then his face lit up with inspiration.

"Ah, signor! What would one not sacrifice for an idea, for duty, for honour, for the happiness of those we love?"

"Those are sentiments, Monsieur Papadopoulos," I remarked, "which do you infinite credit."

"And, therefore, I express them, sir," he replied, "to show you what manner of man I am." He paused for a moment; then bending forward, his hands on his little knees--he was sitting far back in the chair and his legs were dangling like a child's--he regarded me intently.

"Would you be equally chivalrous for the sake of an idea?"

I replied that I hoped I should conduct myself _en galant homme_ in any circ.u.mstances.

"I knew it," he cried. "My intuition is never wrong. An English statesman is as fearless as Agamemnon, and as wise as Nestor. Have you your evening free?"

"Yes," I replied wonderingly.

"Would you care to devote it to a perilous adventure? Not so perilous, for I"--he thumped his chest--"will be there. But still _molto gefahrlich_."

His black eyes held mine in burning intensity. So as to hide a smile I lit a cigarette. I know not what little imp in motley possessed me that evening. He seemed to hit me over the head with his bladder, and counsel me to play the fool like himself, for once in my life before I died. I could almost hear him speaking.

"Surely a crazy dwarf out of a nightmare is more entertaining company than decayed Colonels of British Cavalry."

I blew two or three puffs of my cigarette, and met my guest's eager gaze.

"I shall be happy to put myself at your disposal," said I. "May I ask, without indiscretion--?"

"No, no," he interrupted, "don't ask. Secrecy is part of the gigantic combination. _En galant homme_, I require of you--confidence."

With an irresistible touch of mockery I said: "Professor Papadopoulos, I will be happy to follow you blindfold to the lair of whatever fire-breathing dragon you may want me to help you destroy."

He rose and grasped his hat and made me a profound bow.

"You will not find me wanting in courage, Monsieur. There is another small favour I would ask of you. Will you bring some of your visiting-cards?"

"With pleasure," said I.

At that moment the gong clanged loudly through the hotel.

"It is your dinner-hour," said the dwarf. "I depart. Our rendezvous--"

"Let us have no rendezvous, my dear Professor," I interposed. "What more simple than that you should do me the pleasure of dining with me here?

We can thus fortify ourselves with food and drink for our adventure, and we can start on it comfortably together whenever it seems good to you."

The little man put his head on one side and looked at me in an odd way.

"Do you mean," he asked in a softened voice, "that you ask me to dine with you in the midst of your aristocratic compatriots?"

"Why, evidently," said I, baffled. "It's only an ordinary table d'hote dinner."

To my astonishment, tears actually spurted out of the eyes of the amazing little creature. He took my hand and before I knew what he was going to do with it he had touched it with his lips.

"My dear Professor!" I cried in dismay.

He put up a pudgy hand, and said with great dignity:

"I cannot dine with you, Monsieur de Gex. But I thank you from my heart for your generous kindness. I shall never forget it to my dying day."

"But----"