Then the door is opened.

The red lantern gives a light that shows them the interior of this Valetta house, and in the brilliant illumination stands a man, a native Maltese servant.

John has arranged his plan of action in such an event.  He hopes the man who opens the door may talk English.

“Good evening,” he says, courteously.

The man returns the salutation gravely.

“I would see the gentleman of the house on business of importance.”

“Are you Doctor Craig?”

“That is my name.”

“John Alexander Craig?”

“The same.”

“Of Chicago?”

“You hit it, my friend of Malta.”

“Ah! you are expected—­enter,” is the surprising reply, and the professor calls his attention to it by a sly dig in the ribs.

They start to enter, when the faithful servitor of the house bars the way of the professor.

“Pardon; I said Doctor Craig.”

“Well?” demands Philander, bristling up.

“You can wait for him outside.  I will give you a chair, a cigar.”

The professor laughs in good humor.

“Bless you, I’m Doctor Craig’s shadow; he can’t go anywhere but with me.  Fetch two chairs.  We will interview your master outside.”

The citizen of Malta appears perplexed.  John comes to the rescue.

“It will be all right; this gentleman is my companion, my interpreter.  It is necessary that he accompany me.  Enter, professor.”

His assurance carries the day; the man backs down and allows Philander a passage.

Their first point is gained.

The servant having closed and barred the door and asked them to follow, goes on ahead.  The professor takes advantage of the opportunity presented, and plucks John’s sleeve, and as that worthy bends down, he whispers: 

“Have you noticed it?”

“What?” asks the young doctor.

“His style of address, my boy; same words exactly that were used at the hotel by the man who brought you the news.”

“Jove! you are right, professor.  I imagine that must be the formal style in this country.”

Philander chuckles.

“You’ll have to guess closer to the mark than that, my boy, when you want to strike the truth.”

“What can you mean, sir?”

“Bless you, it’s the same man.  Notice his walk; doesn’t he hold himself just so?”

“Professor, you’re wide awake.  I admit all you say.  There is a wonderful resemblance.  Yes, I believe it is the same man.  Really, this affair grows more and more interesting.  Talk about your comedies, they’re not in it.”

Further conversation is cut off by the fact of their guide ushering them into a room that is lighted with an antique lamp.

“Wait here,” he says, and disappears.

John Craig manages to retain his self-possession, though it gives him a thrill to think that he may be looking upon a scene which was only recently graced by the presence of the being whom he seeks far and wide—­his mother.