"Yes," said Miss Jocelyn, "but you can get back on him. That's better."
"How?"
"Spin him a long story. Tell him you smoked it and it gave you visions. Then when he's finished with his laugh, give him his tobacco back again to prove that you knew his game all the time."
"Excellent." He took from his pocket a little box in which the tobacco was placed, put it in one of the hotel envelopes and sealed it and dated it. "But the triumph must be yours," he said.
She leaned forward seriously. "Listen to me. You don't want to mention my name—you don't even know it, but I'm Irene Jocelyn. I've put confidence in you. See, he's not got to know that I've had anything to do with it. You promise me that?"
"Certainly. But I'm puzzled. Why do you come along to save me from making myself ridiculous? It's very kind of you. I'm very glad you've done it. But why?"
She hesitated and blushed slightly. "For myself, perhaps."
It seemed promising; he was emboldened. "What a pity I have wasted my time by not meeting you before? Have you been long in Cairo?"
"A few days," she said absent-mindedly. "My!" she exclaimed. "If I don't go back to my Aunt Esmeralda right now, there's going to be a deal of trouble. I'll say good-night to you, Mr Lake."
He was rather staggered. "Good-night," he said. "But I hope this is not the last time—"