A large wood fire blazed in the grate, and a candle on the table threw its light on to certain papers half-hidden within the pockets of a portfolio much worn by use.

      One of these men was Ben Omar, who, in a helpless way, looked at the flames in the fire-place, which were far less ardent than those that blazed in the eyes of his companion.

      This companion was the unprepossessing foreigner, to whom the notary had given the almost imperceptible signal, while he and Antifer were talking at the end of the harbour.

      For the twentieth time this personage remarked,—

      “And so you have failed?”

      “Yes, Excellency, and Allah is my witness—”

      “I have nothing to do with the evidence of Allah or of anybody else! There is the fact—you failed.”

      “To my great regret.”

      “This Antifer refused to give up the letter?”

      “He did.”

      “And he refused to sell it?”

      “To sell it! He consented—”

      “And you did not buy it, you dunderhead! Is it not in your possession? You came here without bringing it?”

      “Do you know what he asked?”

      “What does that matter?”

      “Fifty millions of francs!”

      “Fifty millions—”

      And there was a volley of oaths.

      “And so, you imbecile, this sailor knows of what importance this might be to him?”

      “There is no doubt of it.”

      “May Mahomet strangle me—and you, too!” exclaimed the irascible personage, striding about the room; “or, rather, that is my business as far as you are concerned, for I hold you responsible for all the misfortunes that may happen—”

      “But it is not my fault, Excellency! I was not in the secrets of Kamylk Pasha.”

      “You ought to have been, then; you ought to have found them out when he was alive; you were his notary!”

      And then came another broadside of oaths.

      This terrible man was Saouk, the son of Mourad, the cousin of Kamylk. He was then thirty-one. His father being dead, he found himself the direct heir of his rich uncle, and would have inherited an immense fortune if this fortune had not been put out of reach of his covetousness in the way we know.

      What had happened after Kamylk had left Aleppo, taking his treasure with him, to bury it on some unknown island, was briefly this:—

      In October, 1831, Ibrahim, with twenty-two ships of war and thirty thousand men, had captured Gazza, Jaffa, Caiffa, and Acre had fallen into his hands the year following, on the 27th of March, 1832.

      It seemed as though the territories of Palestine and Syria were to be finally severed from the Sublime Porte, when the intervention of the European powers stopped the son of Mehemet Ali in his career of conquest. In 1833 the treaty of Kataya was imposed on the Sultan and the Viceroy, and things remained as they had been.

      Fortunately for his safety during this much-troubled period, Kamylk had placed his riches in the cavity sealed by the double K, and had continued his voyages. Whither went the brigantine under the command of Captain Zo? In what parts, far or near, did he plough the seas? Did he visit farthest Asia or farthest Europe? No one knew save his captain and himself, for none of the crew were allowed to land, and none of them knew whether they were in the west or the east, the north or the south, for such was their master’s whim.

      But after their many peregrinations Kamylk was imprudent enough to return to the Levant. The treaty of Kataya having stopped the ambitious march of Ibrahim, the northern part of Syria having submitted to the Sultan, the rich Egyptian had good reason to suppose that there was no danger in his returning to Aleppo.

      As ill-luck would have it, however, in the middle of the year 1834 his vessel was driven by bad weather into Acre. Ibrahim’s fleet was then cruising off the coast, and Mourad, invested with official functions by Mehemet Ali, was on board one of the ships of war.

      The brigantine was flying Turkish colours. Was it known that she belonged to Kamylk Pasha! It matters little. She was chased, caught, carried by boarding, after a stout defence, which meant the massacre of the crew, the destruction of the ship and the capture of her owner and captain.

      Kamylk was at once recognized by Mourad. A few weeks later he and Captain Zo were secretly carried to Egypt, and imprisoned in the fortress of Cairo.

      But even if Kamylk had returned to his house at Aleppo it is probable that he would not have found the safety on which he reckoned. That part of Syria under Egyptian administration groaned under an odious yoke. This lasted until 1839, when the excesses of Ibrahim’s agents were such that the Sultan withdrew the concessions to which he had been forced to yield. The result of this was a new campaign on the part of Mehemet Ali, whose troops gained the victory of Nezib; whereupon Mahmoud began to fear for the safety of the capital of Turkey in Europe; and England, Russia and Austria had to intervene to stay the march of the conqueror, and assure him hereditary possession of Egypt, and the governorship for life of Palestine west of the Jordan.

      It is true that the Viceroy, intoxicated with victory, and encouraged by French diplomacy, refused the offer of the Allied Powers. But their fleets were sent against him. Sir Charles Napier captured Beyrouth and then Sidon, and then bombarded and captured Acre, so that Mehemet Ali had to yield, and recall his son to Egypt, leaving Syria entirely to Sultan Mahmoud.

      Kamylk Pasha had been too hasty in his endeavour to return to the country of his choice, where he thought of peacefully ending his troubled life. There he intended to remove his treasure, and with some portion of it pay his debts of gratitude—debts perhaps forgotten by those who had helped him. And instead of Aleppo it was Cairo that he found, thrown