ayed in that wonderful hair of hers; and pale though she
was, I thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman.

"Tell them," she said quietly, "what must be done."

Soar glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes and shifted
uneasily. Hilton stared as if fascinated.

"Now," rapped Dexter, in his strident voice, "putting aside all
questions of justice and right (we're not policemen), what do we
want--you and I, Mr. Cavanagh?"

"I can't think clearly about anything," I said dully. "Explain
yourself."

"Very well. Inspector Bristol, C.I.D., would want me and Hassan
arrested. I don't want that! What I want is peace; I want to be
able to sleep in comfort; I want to know I'm not likely to be
murdered on the next corner! Same with you?"

"Yes--yes."

"How can we manage it? One way would be to kill Hassan of Aleppo;
but he wants a lot of killing--I've tried! Moreover, directly
we'd done it, another Sheikh-al-jebal would be nominated and he'd
carry on the bloody work. We'd be worse off than ever. Right!
we've got to connive at letting the blood-stained fanatic escape,
and we've got to give up the slipper!"

"I'll do that with all my heart!"

"Sure! But you and I have both got little scores up against Hassan,
which it's not in human nature to forget. But I've got it worked
out that there's only one way. It may nearly choke us to have to
do it, I'll allow. I'm working on the Moslem character. Mr. Hilton,
make up a fire in the grate here!"

Hilton stared, not comprehending.

"Do as he asks," I said. "Personally, I am resigned to mutilation,
since I have touched the bag containing the slipper, but if
Dexter has a plan--"

"Excuse me, sir," Soar interrupted. "I believe there's some coal
in the coal-box, but I shall have to break up a packing-case for
firewood--or go out into the yard!"

"Let it be the packing-case," replied Hilton hastily.

Accordingly a fire was kindled, whilst we all stood about the room
in a sort of fearful uncertainty; and before long a big blaze was
roaring up the chimney. Dexter turned to me.

"Mr. Cavanagh," said he, "I want you to go right upstairs, open a
first-floor window--I would suggest that of your bedroom--and
invite Hassan of Aleppo to come and discuss terms!"

Silence followed his words; we were all amazed. Then--

"Why do you ask me to do this?" I inquired.

"Because," replied Dexter, "I happen to know that Hassan has some
queer kind of respect for you-