vment, and the unfavourable predictions of Stephen-
son, was in the habit of seeing, from his office
window, English ships daily passing to and fro on
the great canal, by which the old roundabout route
from England to India by the Cape of Good Hope
was abridged by at least a half. The other was a
small, slight-built personage, with a nervous, intelli-
gent face, and bright eyes peering out from under eye-
brows which he was incessantly twitching. He was
just now manifesting unmistakable signs of impa-
tience, nervously pacing up and down, and unable
to stand still for a moment. This was Fix, one
of the detectives who had been despatched from
England in search of the bank robber; it was his task
to narrowly watch every passenger who arrived at
Suez, and to follow up all who seemed to be suspicious
characters, or bore a resemblance to the description
of the criminal, which he had received two days before
from the police head-quarters at London. The
detective was evidently inspired by the hope of
obtaining the splendid reward which would be the
prize of success, and awaited with a feverish im-
patience, easy to understand, the arrival of the steamer
"Mongolia."

"So you say, consul," asked he for the twentieth
time, "that this steamer is never behind time?"

"No, Mr. Fix," replied the consul. "She was
bespoken yesterday at Port Said, and the rest of the

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