He could not recall a similar instance in all the years of his recent experience when he was constrained to recognize, nay, surrender to, a diffusive impulse such as this curious stranger awakened in his mind.

In yielding to its insinuations, even to the extent already recorded, he was agreeably conscious of a sort of guilty abandon which, at times, stupefies the moral qualities ere delivering them into the hands of a welcome invader.

For some time Robert, with the others, had enjoyed the entertainment offered by this transformation of Satyr to Faun, and the inversion advanced to still further degrees their curious regard of the "Sepoy," a picturesque description bestowed upon him by the blase boarders.

Consequently, one evening, when, at the conclusion of the dinner, the "Sepoy," in response to the invitation of Raikes, was seen to disappear with the latter through the doorway which led to his apartments, Robert's interest in the spectacle changed to genuine alarm, until a moment's reflection upon his uncle's well-known ability to take care of himself reassured him.

Intruding the door between themselves and all further speculation, the strangely-assorted pair proceeded along a dimly-illumed hallway to a room in which Raikes usually secluded himself.

As the Sepoy advanced, he could see that, with the exception of two sleeping-chambers, revealed by their open doors, the apartment in which he found himself was the only one where any kind of accommodation could be found, as the balance of the house offered unmistakable evidences of being unoccupied.

"Be seated, sir," croaked Raikes, with a voice strangely suggestive of a raven attempting the modulations of some canary it had swallowed. "I do not smoke myself, and, therefore, cannot provide you with that sort of entertainment; still, I have no objection to you enjoying yourself in that way if," with a cynical shrug of the shoulders by way of apology, "you have come prepared."

Accepting this frank inhospitality in the spirit of its announcement, the stranger, smiling with his curious eyes, produced two cigars, one of which he offered to Raikes, and which was consistently and promptly refused.

"I can't afford it," expostulated the latter. "I never indulge myself even in temptation; the nearest I will approach to dissipation will be, with your permission, to enjoy the aroma. I do not propose to rebuke myself for that."

"As you please," returned the other as he replaced the weed in his pocket. "It is my one indulgence; in other respects I challenge any man to be more abstemious."

"I have had none," returned Raikes with a rasping lack of emotion, "for the last ten years. It is too late to begin to cultivate a disability now."

"You are wrong," replied the Sepoy. "One's attitude cannot be rigid at all points; that is bad management. The finest tragedy I ever witnessed was emphasized by the trivialities of the king's jester.

"However," he added, as if in support of his theory, "I can, at least, trouble you for a match."

While Raikes busied himself in an effort to show the hospitality of the service indicated, the Sepoy's busy, furtive eyes glanced here and there about the room with quick, inquiring glances.

At one end a bedstead stood, which an antiquarian would have accepted gladly as collateral for a loan.

Near-by a wardrobe, equally remote if more decrepit, leaned against the wall to maintain the balance jeopardized by a missing foot.

One chair, in addition to those occupied by Raikes and his companion, appeared to extend its worn arms with a weary insistence and dusty disapproval of their emptiness.

A table, large enough to accommodate a student's lamp, several account books and a blotting-pad, completed this uninviting galaxy.

To the walls, however, the Sepoy directed his closest scrutiny.

With an incredibly rapid glance he surveyed every possible inch of space, turning his head cautiously to enable his eyes to penetrate into the more distant portions.

Presently, after an amount of rummaging altogether disproportionate to the nature of his quest, Raikes succeeded in finding a lucifer, which flared with a reluctance characteristic of the surroundings.

The Sepoy, availing himself of its blaze, deposited the remainder of the stick, with elaborate carefulness, upon the table, as if urged by the thought that his companion might convert it to further uses.

As Raikes resumed his chair, the Sepoy, recalling his glances from their mysterious foray, directed them, with curious obliqueness, upon his companion.

In no instance that Raikes could recall had the Sepoy looked upon him directly save in fleeting flashes.

At such moments Raikes was conscious of a strange tremor, a vanishing fascination, that he vainly sought to duplicate by attracting the other's attention, in order to analyze its peculiar influence.

"May I ask," he ventured after a few inhalations of his vicarious smoke, "may I ask the nature of your business?"

"Surely," replied the other. "I am a collector."

"Of what?" inquired Raikes, dissatisfied with the ambiguity of the answer.

"Sapphires," said the Sepoy.

"Ah!" cried Raikes.

"Yes," continued the other, regarding the kindling glance of the avaricious Raikes with a quick, penetrating look that was not without its effect upon the latter; "yes, and I have had many beautiful specimens in my time."

"But where is your establishment?" asked Raikes.

"Wherever I chance to be," was the reply.

"Still," ventured Raikes, astonished at this curious rejoinder, "you have some safe depository for such valuables."

"Doubtless," replied the other drily; "but I have a few in my room now, and, by the way, they are pretty fair specimens."

"Ah!" cried Raikes. "May I see them?"

"Why not?" assented the Sepoy. "In the meantime," he continued, as he inserted his hand in his waistcoat pocket, "what do you think of this?"

and describing a glittering semicircle in the air with some brilliant object he held in his grasp, he deposited upon the table a sapphire of such extraordinary size and beauty, that Raikes, able as he was to realize the great value of this gleaming condensation, stared stupidly at it for a moment, and then, with a cry of almost gibbering avarice, caught the gem in his trembling hands and burglarized it with his greedy eyes.

As Raikes, oblivious of all else, continued to gaze upon the brilliant with repulsive fascination, a peculiar change transformed the face of the Sepoy.

He directed upon the unconscious countenance of his companion a glance of terrible intensity, moving his hands the while in a weird, sinuous rhythm, until presently, satisfied with the vacant expression which had replaced the eager look of the moment before in the eyes of the tremulous Raikes, the Sepoy began, with an indescribably easy, somnolent modulation, the following strange recital:

(To be continued on Dickey No. 2.)

"Thunder and lightning!" cried Dennis as he reached the exasperating announcement in italics at the bottom of the dickey back:

"Continued on Dickey No. 2."

"What th' div--now, what do you think of that? An' it's me crazy to hear what that meerschaum-colored divil was a-goin' to say. 'Dickey No. 2.'

Why, that's the one I have to wear to-day, an' to think the story's on the back of it."

Truly was Dennis harassed.

He had been in many a pickle before, but never in one quite so exasperating.

Tantalized, in the first place, by the uncertainty surrounding his prospective employment, he was now confronted by a predicament which threatened to jeopardize a vital adjunct to his personal appearance.

A native curiosity, to which this outrageous tale appealed so strenuously, prompted him to detach bosom No. 2 regardless.

An equally characteristic thrift warned him against such an inconsiderate procedure.