the dim clamor of London far below, there crept
to my ears a sound which completed the magical quality of the scene,
rendering that sky platform on a roof of Soho a magical carpet bearing
me to the golden Orient. This sound was the wailing of a reed pipe.

"The company is complete," murmured Smith. "I had expected this."

Again the curtains parted, and a _ghazeeyeh_ glided out into the room.
She wore a white dress, clinging closely to her figure from shoulders
to hips, where it was clasped by an ornate girdle, and a skirt of
sky-blue gauze which clothed her as Io was clothed of old. Her arms
were covered with gold bangles, and gold bands were clasped about her
ankles. Her jet-black, frizzy hair was unconfined and without
ornament, and she wore a sort of highly colored scarf so arranged that
it effectually concealed the greater part of her face, but served to
accentuated the brightness of the great flashing eyes. She had
unmistakable beauty of a sort, but how different from the sweet
witchery of Karamaneh!

With a bold, swinging grace she walked down the center of the room,
swaying her arms from side to side and snapping her fingers.

"Zarmi!" exclaimed Smith.

But his exclamation was unnecessary, for already I had recognized the
evil Eurasian who was so efficient a servant of the Chinese doctor.

The wailing of the pipes continued, and now faintly I could detect the
throbbing of a _darabukeh._ This was el Wasr indeed. The dance
commenced, its every phase followed eagerly by the motley clientele
of the hashish house. Zarmi danced with an insolent nonchalance that
nevertheless displayed her barbaric beauty to greatest advantage. She
was lithe as a serpent, graceful as a young panther, another Lamia
come to damn the souls of men with those arts denounced in a long dead
age by Apolonius of Tyana.

"She seemed, at once, some penanced lady elf,
Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self...."

Entranced against my will, I watched the Eurasian until, the barbaric
dance completed, she ran from the room, and the curtains concealed her
from view. How my mind was torn between hope and fear that I should
see Karamaneh again! How I longed for one more glimpse of her, yet
loathed the thought of her presence in that infamous house.

She was a captive; of that there could be no doubt, a captive in the
hands of the giant criminal whose wiles were endless, whose resources
were boundless, whose intense cunning had enabled hi