dusk, and stepped into the Street
of the Camel with his cloak delicately round him. Fine as he was, he was
insanely a lover of the vile thing he had left; for he knelt down in the
street to kiss her well-worn doorstep. He knelt under the light of a
small lamp, and out of the shadow behind him stepped catfoot a tall
thin man, white from head to foot, who, saying 'All hail, master,'
stabbed Hamon deep in the side. Hamon jerked up his head, tottered, fell
without more than a tired man's sigh sideways into the arms of his
killer. This one eased his fall as tenderly as if he was upholding a
girl, let him down into the kennel, drew him thence by the shoulders
into the dark, and himself vanished. Montferrat swore softly to himself,
'That was neatly done. I must find out who this expert may be.' He went
away full of it, having forgotten his housed enemy.

There was a Sheik Moffadin in the jail, one of the Soldan's hostages for
the return of the True Cross. The Marquess went to see him.

'Who of your people,' he asked, 'is very tall and light-footed, robes
him from head to foot in white linen, and kills quietly, as if he loved
the dead, with an "All hail, master"?'

'We call him an Assassin in our language,' the Sheik replied; 'but he is
not of our people by any means. He is a servant of the Old Man who
dwells on Lebanon.'

'What old man is this, Moffadin?'

'I can tell you no more of him,' said the Sheik, 'save that he is master
of many such men, who serve him faithfully and in silence. But he hates
the Soldan, and the Soldan him.'

'How do they serve him, by killing?'

'Yes. They kill whomsoever he points out, and so receive (or think to
receive) a crown in Paradise.'

'Is this old man's name Death, by our Saviour?' cried the Marquess.

The Sheik answered, 'His name is Sinan. But the name of Death would suit
him very well.'

'Where should I get speech with some of his servants?' the Marquess
inquired; adding, 'For my life is in danger. I have enemies who are
irksome to me.'

'By the Tower of Flies you will find them,' said the Sheik, 'and late at
night. There are always some of his people walking there. Seek out such
a man as you have seen, and without fear accost him after his fashion,
kissing him and saying, "Ah, Ali. Ah, Abdallah, servant of Ali."

'I am very much obliged to you, Moffadin,' said the Marquess.

* * * * *

That same night Jehane was in pain, and King Richard dar