"Yes. I went back to the old home in Egypt—the house where I was born and bred. It had been well kept and cared for by the faithful servant to whom my father had entrusted it—as well kept as a Royal Chamber in the Pyramids with the funeral offerings untouched and a perpetual lamp burning. It was the best of all possible places in which to continue my particular line of work without interruption—and I have stayed there most of the time, only coming away, as now, when necessary for a change and a look at the world as the world lives in these days."
"And"—here Mr. Harland hesitated, then went on—"Are you married?"
Santoris lifted his eyes and regarded his former college acquaintance fixedly.
"That question is unnecessary"—he said—"You know I am not."
There was a brief awkward pause. Dr. Brayle looked up with a satirical smile.
"Spiritual science has probably taught you to beware of the fair sex"—he said.
"I do not entirely understand you"—answered Santoris, coldly—"But if you mean that I am not a lover of women in the plural you are right."
"Perhaps of the one woman—the one rare pearl in the deep sea"—hinted
Dr. Brayle, unabashed.
"Come, you are getting too personal, Brayle," interrupted Mr. Harland, quickly, and with asperity—"Santoris, your health!"
He raised a glass of wine to his lips—Santoris did the same—and this simple courtesy between the two principals in the conversation had the effect of putting their subordinate in his proper place.