him hard set muscles. At last they were again in the house which was
hushed as though untenanted or as though its occupants were asleep or
dead. He could fancy Bruce in some remote room, tricked by some false
message of Zoraida's, eagerly expecting her, hungering for her lying
explanations; he could picture Barlow, glowering, but awaiting her,
too. Well, the time had passed when he could largely concern himself
with them and what they did and thought. Tonight he must serve
himself, and Betty. If she would listen to him.

Presently he saw where it was that Zoraida was conducting him. He
remembered the dim ante-room in which they paused a moment while
Zoraida fastened the door behind them; then, the curtain thrown aside,
they were again in that barbaric, tapestry-hung chamber in which, the
first night here, he had been brought before her. As before the ruby
upon the thin crystal stem shone like a burning red eye.

Now, for the first time since they had turned away from the golden
Tezcucan's treasure chamber, was Kendric given a full, clear view of
Zoraida's face. During their progress many thoughts had come and gone
swiftly through his mind; now as they two stood looking steadily at
each other, he realized clearly that one matter and one alone had
occupied her. No abatement of cruelty had come into her long eyes; no
flush of color had swept away the cold whiteness of her cheek. She was
set in a merciless determination, relentlessly hard; the colorless face
resulted from a frozen heart. Before now Kendric had seen murder
staring out of a man's widened eyes; now he saw it in a woman's.

For the instant only she had looked at him as though she were probing
into his secret thought and there swept over him the old, disquieting
sensation that each thought in his mind lay as clear to her look as a
white pebble in a sunlit pool. Then her eyes passed on, beyond him.
He turned and saw the hangings parted at that spot where Zoraida had
appeared to him that other time; one of the brutish, squat forms which
Kendric remembered, stood in the opening.

Zoraida spoke with the man swiftly, her voice hard and sharp. A quick
change came into the heavy, thick-lipped face; the stupid eyes
brightened; the face was distorted as by some hideous anticipation.
Zoraida ended what she had to say; the man spoke gutturally, nodding
his head. Then he dropped the curtain and was gone.

Zoraida went to her black chair with the crystal