looked
up at her with a concentrated gaze in which rage and reproach must have
been strangely mingled. What eyes she had!--of that blackly lustrous
sort nearly always associated with unusually dark complexions; but
Karamaneh's complexion was peachlike, or rather of an exquisite and
delicate fairness which reminded me of the petal of a rose. By some I
had been accused of raving about this girl's beauty, but only by those
who had not met her; for indeed she was astonishingly lovely.

At last her eyes fell, the long lashes drooped upon her cheeks. She
turned and walked slowly to the chair in which Fu-Manchu had sat.
Placing the keys upon the table amid the scientific litter, she rested
one dimpled elbow upon the yellow page of the book, and with her chin in
her palm, again directed upon me that enigmatical gaze.

I dared not think of the past, of the past in which this beautiful,
treacherous girl had played a part; yet, watching her, I could not
believe, even now, that she was false! My state was truly a pitiable
one; I could have cried out in sheer anguish. With her long lashes
partly lowered, she watched me awhile, then spoke; and her voice was
music which seemed to mock me; every inflection of that elusive accent
reopened, lancet-like, the ancient wound.

"Why do you look at me so?" she said, almost in a whisper. "By what
right do you reproach me?--Have you ever offered me friendship, that I
should repay you with friendship? When first you came to the house where
I was, by the river--came to save some one from" (there was the familiar
hesitation which always preceded the name of Fu-Manchu) "from--him, you
treated me as your enemy, although--I would have been your friend..."

There was appeal in the soft voice, but I laughed mockingly, and threw
myself back upon the divan.

Karamaneh stretched out her hands toward me, and I shall never forget
the expression which flashed into those glorious eyes; but, seeing me
intolerant of her appeal, she drew back and quickly turned her head
aside. Even in this hour of extremity, of impotent wrath, I could find
no contempt in my heart for her feeble hypocrisy; with all the
old wonder I watched that exquisite profile, and Karamaneh's very
deceitfulness was a salve--for had she not cared she would not have
attempted it!

Suddenly she stood up, taking the keys in her hands, and approached me.

"Not by word, nor by look," she said, quietly, "have you asked for my
friendship, but