Ford, whose ears were alert for any sound, heard him returning,
approaching stealthily on tiptoe. If by this maneuver the Jew had
hoped to discover his patient in some indiscretion, he was
unsuccessful, for he found Ford standing just where he had left
him, with his back turned to the door, and gazing with apparent
interest at a picture on the wall. The significance of the incident
was not lost upon the intruder. It taught him he was still under
surveillance, and that he must bear himself warily. Murmuring some
excuse for having returned, the Jew again departed, and in a few
minutes Ford heard his voice, and that of another man, engaged in
low tones in what was apparently an eager argument.

Only once was the voice of the other man raised sufficiently for
Ford to distinguish his words. "He is an American," protested the
voice; "that makes it worse."

Ford guessed that the speaker was Pearsall, and that against his
admittance to the house he was making earnest protest. A door,
closing with a bang, shut off the argument, but within a few
minutes it was evident the Jew had carried his point, for he
reappeared to announce that dinner was waiting. It was served in a
room at the farther end of the hall, and at the table, which was
laid for three, Ford found a man already seated. Prothero
introduced him as "my associate," but from his presence in the
house, and from the fact that he was an American, Ford knew that he
was Pearsall.

Pearsall was a man of fifty. He was tall, spare, with closely
shaven face and gray hair, worn rather long. He spoke with the
accent of a Southerner, and although to Ford he was studiously