eland had not been scared; Ali Baba and his automatic
pistol were only part of this unreality; his appearance on the scene
had been fantastically classical; he entered when his cue was given by
Scheherazade--this oily, hawk-nosed Eurasian with his pale eyes set
too closely and his moustache hiding under his nose a la Enver
Pasha--a faultless make-up, an entry properly timed and prepared. And
then, always well-timed for dramatic effect, Golden Beard had
appeared. Everything was _en regle_, every unity nicely preserved.
Scheherazade had protested; and her protest sounded genuine. Also
entirely convincing was the binding and gagging of himself at the
point of an automatic pistol; and, as for the rest of the business, it
was practically all action and little dialogue--an achievement really
in these days of dissertation.

All, as he looked on at it over the bandage which closed his mouth,
had seemed unreal, impersonal, even when his forced attitude had
caused him inconvenience and finally pain.

But now, with the light extinguished and the closing of the door
behind Golden Beard and Ali Baba, he experienced a shock which began
to awaken him to the almost incredible and instant reality of things.

It actually began to look as though these story-book conspirators--these
hirelings of a foreign government who had not been convincing because
they were too obvious, too well done--actually intended to expose him to
serious injury.

In spite of their sinister intentions in regard to him, in spite of
their attempts to harm him, he had not, so far, been able to take them
seriously or even to reconcile them and their behaviour with the
commonplaces of the twentieth century in which he lived.

But now, in the darkness, with the clock on the washstand shelf
ticking steadily, he began to take the matter very seriously. The gag
in his mouth hurt him cruelly; the bands of linen that held it in
began to stifle him so that his breath came in quick gasps through his
nostrils; sweat started at the roots of his hair; his heart leaped,
beat madly, stood still, and leaped again; and he threw himself
against the strips that held him and twisted and writhed with all his
strength.

Suddenly fear pierced him like a poignard; for a moment panic seized
him and chaos reigned in his bursting brain. He swayed and strained
convulsively; he strove to hurl all the inward and inert reserve of
strength against the bonds that held him.

After what seeme