There was a chattering sound. The teeth of Appolonius the Great seemed to be its source. He leaned against the door. "Pardon! Let me recover myself! I do not wish to be faint. This is--incredible!"

Coghlan waited. The small fat man's face was in shadow. He took several deep breaths. "I--think I can act naturally now."

Coghlan closed the door behind him. And Appolonius walked into the sitting-room of the suite with his usual strutting waddle--but his usual beaming smile simply could not jell. He bowed elaborately to Mannard and to Laurie, with sweat shining on his face. Mannard said: "Appolonius, this is Lieutenant Ghalil of the police. He thinks I'm in some danger."

Appolonius the Great swallowed. He said to Mannard: "I came because I thought you were dead."

A rather thoughtful silence followed. Then Lieutenant Ghalil cleared his throat to ask the obvious questions--and paused, looking exceedingly alert, as Appolonius' pudgy right hand went into his coat pocket--Only an envelope came out. A Hotel Petra envelope. His fat fingers shaking, Appolonius drew out the single sheet it enclosed and handed it to Mannard. Mannard read. He flushed, speechless with anger. He handed it to Ghalil. Ghalil read, and said slowly: "But the letter is dated tomorrow!" He passed it politely to Laurie. "I do not think you wrote this, Miss Mannard."

He returned his gaze to the shaken, uneasy, almost trembling figure of that small magician who called himself Appolonius the Great. Coghlan moved to be beside Laurie as she read. Her shoulder touched his. The note said: "_Dear Mr. Appolonius;_ _You are the only person I know in Istanbul to ask for help in the tragic circumstances of my father's death. Will you help me, please?_ _Laurie Mannard._"

"I have heard of post-dated checks," said Ghalil. "I think that is an American custom. But pre-written letters...."

Appolonius seemed to shiver. "I--did not notice that," he said unsteadily. "But it--would seem to be like the message of which Mr. Coghlan told us--with his fingerprints."

"Not quite," said Ghalil, shaking his head. "No, not quite!"

Mannard said furiously: "Where'd you get this, Appolonius? It's a forgery, of course. I'm not dead yet!"

"I had been--away from my hotel. I returned and that--letter awaited me. I came here at once."

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