At the same moment I drew forth my revolver and pulled the trigger. Then a darkness fell upon me, and I remember nothing more.
The sensation was horrible; the pain excruciating. It seemed as though a thousand red-hot needles were being thrust into my brain.
Slowly the terrible throbbing in my head abated, and I found myself seated in an armchair in a well-furnished, though unfamiliar, drawing-room. It was lit by tiny electric lamps, shaded with canary silk; and, as I gazed round in abject astonishment, I noticed a pretty fernery beyond, which looked like a mermaid’s grotto in the depths of the sea, so dense was the mass of dimly-illuminated greenery.
My first thoughts were of my charge, and I felt for my pouch, in which I had carried a bundle of bank-notes.
It was not there! Placing my hand upon my chin, I was startled to find that I had a beard, while on the previous night I had been clean shaven! And the box of bullion—where was that?
I started to my feet, and as I did so, my figure was reflected in a long mirror. I staggered back in dismay, for, although last night I was a sprightly and spruce young man of thirty, my hair was now turning grey, and my face so aged and wrinkled that I could scarcely recognise myself!
Where was I? What could it all mean?
I saw a bell, and rang it hastily.
My summons was quickly answered by a sharp-featured man, who was evidently not a servant.