"Pff! We are not under the French law--at least I have not heard
that England has relinquished her power," retorted Tewfick not
without malice.

"But Mademoiselle Delcasse is French," thrust in Ryder. He knew that
McLean had ventured as far as he, an official and responsible
person, could go, and that the burden of intimation must rest upon
himself. "And under her father's will his family there is
considered in trusteeship. So there would be certain technicalities
that must be considered before any marriage can be arranged, the
signature of the French guardian, the settlement of the dot--this
inheritance, for instance--all mere formalities but involving a
little delay."

Tewfick Pasha turned in his chair and cocked his eyes at this
strange young man who had dropped from the blue with this extensive
advice. He looked puzzled. This American fitted into no type of his
acquaintance. He was so very young and slim and boyish ... with not
at all the air of a legal representative.... But McLean's position
vouched for him.

"You speak for the French family, monsieur?"

Unhesitatingly Ryder declared that he did.

"Then you may inform the family," announced Tewfick, bristling,
"that my daughter has been very well cared for all these years
without advice from France."

"I haven't a doubt of it," said Ryder quickly, "but the French law
might begin to entertain doubts of it, if mademoiselle were married
off now without consultation with the authorities.... Already," he
added a little meaningly, as the other shrugged the suggestion away,
"there have been questions raised concerning the mother's marriage
and the separation of the little Mademoiselle Delcasse from her
relatives in France, and now if she were to be married without any
legal settlement of her estate--"

Steadily he sustained the other's gaze, while his unfinished thought
seemed to float significantly in the air about them.

"Have a cigarette," said the pasha hospitably, extending a gold case
monogrammed with diamonds and emeralds. "Ah, coffee!" he announced,
welcomingly, as a little black boy entered with a brass tray of
steaming cups.

"I hope, gentlemen, that you like my coffee. It is not the usual
Turkish brew. No, this comes from Aden, the finest coffee in the
world. A ship captain brings it to me, especially."

Beamingly he sipped the scalding stuff, then darted back to that
suspended sentence. "But you were saying--something of a
trusteeship?... Do