"That is Professor Jenner Monde," he said. "The sergeant, here, knows him well."
The name of the celebrated Orientalist of course was familiar to me, although I had never before set eyes upon him.
"The Professor was out East the last time I was there, sir," stated the commissionaire. "I often used to see him. But he's an eccentric old gentleman. Seems to live in a world of his own. He's recently back from China, I think."
Nayland Smith stood clicking his teeth together in irritable hesitation. I heard Karamaneh sigh, and, looking at her, I saw that her cheeks were regaining their natural color.
She smiled in pathetic apology.
"If he was here he is gone," she said. "I am not afraid now."
Smith thanked the commissionaire for his information and we quitted the gallery.
"Professor Jenner Monde," muttered my friend, "has lived so long in China as almost to be a Chinaman. I have never met him—never seen him, before; but I wonder—"
"You wonder what, Smith?"
"I wonder if he could possibly be an ally, of the Doctor's!"