We have before said that Markham was not a coward—far from it; and he moreover experienced a lively curiosity to satisfy himself concerning the fate of an individual whose inveterate malignity had so frequently menaced not only his dearest interests, but his life.

This reflection decided him; and, without farther hesitation, he knocked boldly at the front door of the Gipsies' Palace.

Some minutes elapsed ere his summons appeared to have created any attention within; and he was about to repeat it, when the door slowly moved on its hinges.

But to Markham's surprise no person appeared in the obscure lobby into which the pale moon threw a fitful light; in fact, the front door was opened by means of a simple mechanism which the porter worked in his lodge overhead.

While Markham was lost in wonder at this strange circumstance, the trap was suddenly raised above, and a strong light was thrown through it into the lobby.

"Who are you?" demanded the gruff voice of the porter.

"I seek a few hours' repose and rest," answered Markham.

"Who sent you here?"

"A person who is a friend to you."

"Do you know what place this is?"