Gratitude is a rare thing--as rare as the flower of the century--aloe; but you have it, madame." There was no chance to misunderstand him.

Foorgat Bey--he knew the truth, and had known it all these years.
"Excellency," she said, "if through me, Claridge Pasha--" "One moment, madame," he interrupted, and, opening a drawer, took out a letter.

"I think that what you would say may be found here, with much else that you will care to know.

It is the last news of Claridge Pasha--a letter from him.

I understand all you would say to me; but he who has most at stake has said it, and, if he failed, do you think, madame, that you could succeed ?" He handed her the letter with a respectful salutation.
"In the hour he left, madame, he came to know that the name of Foorgat Bey was not blotted from the book of Time, nor from Fate's reckoning." After all these years! Her instinct had been true, then, that night so long ago.