"All right, Petrie! Shall join you in a moment!"

I started up, looked to right and left; but, although the voice had
been that of Nayland Smith, no sign could I discern of his presence!

"Smith!" I cried--"Smith!"

"Coming!"

Seriously doubting my senses, I looked in the direction from which the
voice had seemed to proceed--and there was Nayland Smith.

He stood on the islet in the center of the pond, and, as I perceived
him, he walked down into the shallow water and waded across to me!

"Good heavens!" I began--

One of his rare laughs interrupted me.

"You must think me mad this morning, Petrie!" he said. "But I have
made several discoveries. Do you know what that islet in the pond
really is?"

"Merely an islet, I suppose--"

"Nothing of the kind; it is a burial mound, Petrie! It marks the site
of one of the Plague Pits where victims were buried during the Great
Plague of London. You will observe that, although you have seen it
every morning for some years, it remains for a British Commissioner
resident in Burma to acquaint you with its history! Hullo!"--the