by Katherine Cecil Thurston

Two incidents, widely different in character yet bound together by results, marked the night of January the twenty-third. On that night the blackest fog within a four years' memory fell upon certain portions of London, and also on that night came the first announcement of the border risings against the Persian government in the province of Khorasan the announcement that, speculated upon, even smiled at, at the time, assumed such significance in the light of after events. . . . and now in London a familiar man takes the part he took on years ago, and has kept in secret all these years: he is a masquerader. He hasplayed his part, lived for his hour, and proved himself long since. Now he takes steps back into the dim world of unrealized hopes and unachieved ambitions. The Great Game is in motion, and at stake is the fate of nations -- and of the Masquerader, too.