"In Albania," replied the other; "it was many years ago, but the
devils are always sending me reminders of the fact."

He did not attempt to explain who the devils were or under what
circumstances he was brought to this unhappy pass, but changed the
subject definitely.

Sauntering round the cosy room he followed the bookshelf which
filled one wall and stopped now and again to examine some title.
Presently he drew forth a stout volume.

"'Wild Brazil'," he read, "by George Gathercole - do you know
Gathercole?"

John was filling his pipe from a big blue jar on his desk and
nodded.

"Met him once - a taciturn devil. Very short of speech and, like
all men who have seen and done things, less inclined to talk about
himself than any man I know."

Kara looked at the book with a thoughtful pucker of brow and
turned the leaves idly.

"I've never seen him," he said as he replaced the book, "yet, in a
sense, his new journey is on my behalf."

The other man looked up.

"On your behalf?"