ok!" she cried, and there was a tremor of fear in her voice.
"It is he--Asad-ed-Din."

Sakr-el-Bahr crossed to her side and in a glare of torches saw a body of
men coming forth from the black archway of the gate.

"It almost seems as if, departing from thy usual custom, thou hast
spoken truth, O Fenzileh."

She faced him, and he suspected the venomous glance darted at him
through her veil. Yet her voice when she spoke was cold. "In a moment
thou'lt have no single doubt of it. But what of me?" The question was
added in a quickening tone. "He must not find me here. He would kill me,
I think."

"I am sure he would," Sakr-el-Bahr agreed. "Yet muffled thus, who should
recognize thee? Away, then, ere he comes. Take cover in the courtyard
until he shall have passed. Didst thou come alone?"

"Should I trust anyone with the knowledge that I had visited thee?" she
asked, and he admired the strong Sicilian spirit in her that not all
these years in the Basha's hareem had sufficed to extinguish.

She moved quickly to the door, to pause again on the threshold.

"Thou'lt not relinquish her? Thou'lt not."

"Be at ease," he answered her, on so resolved a note that she departed
satisfied.

CHAPTER XIII. IN THE SIGHT OF ALLAH

Sakr-el-Bahr stood lost in thought after she had gone. Again he weighed
her every word and considered precisely how he should meet Asad, and how
refuse him, if the Basha's were indeed such an errand as Fenzileh had
heralded.

Thus in silence he remained waiting for Ali or another to summon him
to the presence of the Basha. Instead, however, when Ali entered it
was actually to announce Asad-ed-Din, who followed immediately upon his
heels, having insisted in his impatience upon being conducted straight
to the presence of Sakr-el-Bahr.

"The peace of the Prophet upon thee, my son, was the Basha's greeting.

"And upon thee, my lord." Sakr-el-Bahr salaamed. "My house is honoured."
With a gesture he dismissed Ali.

"I come to thee a suppliant," said Asad, advancing.

"A suppliant, thou? No need, my lord. I have no will that is not the
echo of thine own."

The Basha's questing eyes went beyond him and glowed as they rested upon
Rosamund.

"I come in haste," he said, "like any callow lover, guided by my every
instinct to the presence of her I seek--this Frankish pearl, this
pen-faced captive of thy latest raid. I was away from the Kasbah when
that pig Tsamanni returned thither from the sok; but