I do not even know who you are,
or in what way your business is associated with him.”  She said this
with a little deprecating smile, all conventional and altogether
graceful; as though to express in the most genuine way her absurd
ignorance. He looked steadily at her for perhaps a quarter of a minute; then he
spoke, beginning at once as though his mind were made up and his
confidence established:

“My name is Eugene Corbeck. I am a Master of Arts and Doctor of Laws
and Master of Surgery of Cambridge; Doctor of Letters of Oxford; Doctor
of Science and Doctor of Languages of London University; Doctor of
Philosophy of Berlin; Doctor of Oriental Languages of Paris. I have
some other degrees, honorary and otherwise, but I need not trouble you
with them. Those I have named will show you that I am sufficiently
feathered with diplomas to fly into even a sick-room. Early in
life—fortunately for my interests and pleasures, but unfortunately for
my pocket—I fell in with Egyptology. I must have been bitten by some
powerful scarab, for I took it bad. I went out tomb-hunting; and
managed to get a living of a sort, and to learn some things that you
can’t get out of books. I was in pretty low water when I met your
Father, who was doing some explorations on his own account; and since
then I haven’t found that I have many unsatisfied wants. He is a real
patron of the arts; no mad Egyptologist can ever hope for a better
chief!”

He spoke with feeling; and I was glad to see that Miss Trelawny
coloured up with pleasure at the praise of her father. I could not
help noticing, however, that Mr. Corbeck was, in a measure, speaking as
if against time. I took it that he wished, while speaking, to study
his ground; to see how far he would be justified in taking into
confidence the two strangers before him. As he went on, I could see
that his confidence kept increasing. When I thought of it afterward,
and remembered what he had said, I realised that the measure of the
information which he gave us marked his growing trust. “I have been several times out on expeditions in Egypt for your Father;
and I have always found it a delight to work for him. Many of his
treasures—and he has some rare ones, I tell you—he has procured
through me, either by my exploration or by purchase—or—or—otherwise. Your Father, Miss Trelawny, has a rare knowledge. He sometimes makes
up his mind that he wants to find a particular thing, of whose
existence—if it still exists—he has become aware; and he will follow
it all over the world till he gets it. I’ve been on just such a chase
now.”

He stopped suddenly, as suddenly as though his mouth had been shut by
the jerk of a string. We waited; when he went on he spoke with a
caution that was new to him, as though he wished to forestall our
asking any questions:

“I am not at liberty to mention anything of my mission; where it was
to, what it was for, or anything at all about it. Such matters are in
confidence between Mr. Trelawny and myself; I am pledged to absolute
secrecy.”

He paused, and an embarrassed look crept over his face. Suddenly he
said:

“You are sure, Miss Trelawny, your Father is not well enough to see me
today?”

A look of wonderment was on her face in turn. But it cleared at
once;—she stood up, saying in a tone in which dignity and graciousness
were blended:

“Come and see for yourself!”  She moved toward her father’s room; he
followed, and I brought up the rear. Mr. Corbeck entered the sick-room as though he knew it. There is an
unconscious attitude or bearing to persons in new surroundings which
there is no mistaking. Even in his anxiety to see his powerful friend,
he glanced for a moment round the room, as at a familiar place. Then
all his attention became fixed on the bed. I watched him narrowly, for
somehow I felt that on this man depended much of our enlightenment
regarding the strange matter in which we were involved. It was not that I doubted him. The man was of transparent honesty; it
was this very quality which we had to dread. He was of that
courageous, fixed trueness to his undertaking, that if he should deem
it his duty to guard a secret he would do it to the last. The case
before us was, at least, an unusual one; and it would, consequently,
require more liberal recognition of bounds of the duty of secrecy than
would hold under ordinary conditions. To us, ignorance was
helplessness. If we could learn anything of the past we might at least
form some idea of the conditions antecedent to the attack; and might,
so, achieve some means of helping the patient to recovery. There were
curios which might be removed.... My thoughts were beginning to whirl
once again; I pulled myself up sharply and watched. There was a look
of infinite pity on the sun-stained, rugged face as he gazed at his
friend, lying so helpless. The sternness of Mr. Trelawny’s face had not
relaxed in sleep; but somehow it made the helplessness more marked. It
would not have troubled one to see a weak or an ordinary face under
such conditions; but this purposeful, masterful man, lying before us
wrapped in impenetrable sleep, had all the pathos of a great ruin. The
sight was not a new one to us; but I could see that Miss Trelawny, like
myself, was moved afresh by it in the presence of the stranger. Mr.
Corbeck’s face grew stern. All the pity died away; and in its stead
came a grim, hard look which boded ill for whoever had been the cause
of this mighty downfall. This look in turn gave place to one of
decision; the volcanic energy of the man was working to some definite
purpose. He glanced around at us; and as his eyes lighted on Nurse
Kennedy his eyebrows went up a trifle. She noted the look, and glanced
interrogatively at Miss Trelawny, who flashed back a reply with a
glance. She went quietly from the room, closing the door behind her. Mr. Corbeck looked first at me, with a strong man’s natural impulse to
learn from a man rather than a woman; then at Miss Trelawny, with a
remembrance of the duty of courtesy, and said:

“Tell me all about it. How it began and when!”  Miss Trelawny looked
at me appealingly; and forthwith I told him all that I knew. He
seemed to make no motion during the whole time; but insensibly the
bronze face became steel. When, at the end, I told him of Mr. Marvin’s
visit and of the Power of Attorney, his look began to brighten. And
when, seeing his interest in the matter, I went more into detail as to
its terms, he spoke:

“Good! Now I know where my duty lies!”

With a sinking heart I heard him. Such a phrase, coming at such a
time, seemed to close the door to my hopes of enlightenment. “What do you mean?” I asked, feeling that my question was a feeble one. His answer emphasized my fears:

“Trelawny knows what he is doing. He had some definite purpose in all
that he did; and we must not thwart him. He evidently expected
something to happen, and guarded himself at all points.”

“Not at all points!” I said impulsively.