“At first I was dazed; the soft murmur of the fountain came near putting me to sleep again with its droning voice.  Then I suddenly remembered something—­a charming face with the flashing eye of a fiend.

“That aroused me to a comprehension of the position, and I no longer cared to sleep.  Action was necessary.  I knew they cared little about Philander Sharpe, as it was you the trap had been set for—­hence I was perhaps in a position to accomplish something.

“I left my chair and prowled around.  They had disarmed me, and my first natural desire was to find some sort of weapon with which I could do service in case of necessity.

“In thus searching I came across a peculiar knife, perhaps used as a paper-cutter, but of a serviceable kind, which I pocketed.

“More than this, I discovered something that I thought would prove of importance to you, and this I hid upon my person, very wisely, too, for a short time later I was suddenly set upon by three miserable rogues, who crept upon me unawares, and in spite of my frantic and Spartan-like resistance, they bore me away along a dim passage, to finally chuck me into the vile den where you came later and alarmed me so dreadfully, as I fully believed it must be some tiger cat they had been pleased to shut in with me.”

The little professor rattles off these long sentences without the least difficulty—­words flow from his lips as readily as the floods roll over Niagara.

When John sees a chance to break in he hastily asks what it is the professor has discovered that interests him.

Whereupon Philander begins to feel in his various pockets, and pull out what has been stored there.  At last he utters an exclamation of satisfaction.

“Eureka! here it is.  Found it lying on a desk.  Was attracted by the singular writing.”

“Singular writing! that makes me believe it must have come from my mother.”

“It is signed Sister Magdalen.”

“Then that proves it; you remember what Lady Ruth said about meeting a Sister in Paris who resembled the miniature I have of my mother.  It was a kind fate that brought this to you, professor.”

“Well, you see, I always had a faculty for prying around—­might have been a famous explorer of Egyptian tombs if I hadn’t been taken in and done for by Gwen Makepeace.”

“Was there anything particularly interesting in this letter?” asks John.

“I considered it so—­you will see for yourself,” is the reply.

All is darkness around them.  John is possessed of patience to a reasonable extent, but he would like to see what this paper contains.

“Professor, you seem to have about everything; can you drum up a cigar and a match?”

“Both, luckily.”

“Ah! thanks,” accepting them eagerly.

“It may be dangerous to light up here,” says Philander, cautiously, but the other is deaf to any advice of this sort.