in a line behind the black-framed panes. I stood by his side. Suddenly
he said--

"Do you remember Karain?"

I nodded.

"The sight of all this made me think of him," he went on, with his face
near the glass . . . and I could see another man, powerful and bearded,
peering at him intently from amongst the dark and polished tubes
that can cure so many illusions. "Yes; it made me think of him," he
continued, slowly. "I saw a paper this morning; they are fighting
over there again. He's sure to be in it. He will make it hot for
the caballeros. Well, good luck to him, poor devil! He was perfectly
stunning."

We walked on.

"I wonder whether the charm worked--you remember Hollis's charm, of
course. If it did . . . Never was a sixpence wasted to better advantage!
Poor devil! I wonder whether he got rid of that friend of his. Hope so.
. . . Do you know, I sometimes think that--"

I stood still and looked at him.

"Yes . . . I mean, whether the thing was so, you know . . . whether it
really happened to him. . . . What do you think?"

"My dear chap," I cried, "you have been too long away from home. What a
question to ask! Only look at all this."