"Hassan Of Aleppo"

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"What shall you do? What do you make of it all?"

"As I see the case," he said slowly, "it stands something like this: Professor Deeping has . . . "

The telephone bell began to ring.

I took up the receiver.

"Hullo! Hullo."

"Cavanagh! - is that Cavanagh?"

"Yes! yes! who is that?"

"Deeping! I have rung up the police, and they are sending some one. But I wish . . . "

His voice trailed off. The sound of a confused and singular uproar came to me.

"Hullo!" I cried. "Hullo!"

A shriek - a deathful, horrifying cry - and a distant babbling alone answered me. There was a crash. Clearly, Deeping had dropped the receiver. I suppose my face blanched.

"What is it?" asked Bristol anxiously.

"God knows what it is!" I said. "Deeping has met with some mishap - "

When, over the wires-

"Hassan of Aleppo!" came a dying whisper. "Hassan . . . of Aleppo . . . "