terests.

It was Von Blitz who told the leading men of the island that their
wives--the Persians, the Circassians, the Egyptians and the Turkish
houris--were in love with the tall stranger. It was he who advised them
to observe the actions, to study the moods of their women.

If he spoke to one of the women, beautiful or plain, the whole male
population knew of it, and smiled derisively upon the husband. Von Blitz
had turned an adder loose among these men; it stung swiftly and returned
to sting again.

The German knew the condition of affairs in his own household. His
overthrow at the hands of the American had cost him more than physical
ignominy; his wives openly expressed an admiration for their champion.

He knew too well the voluptuous nature of these creamy, unloved women,
who had come down to the island of Japat in exchange for the baubles
that found their way into the crowns of Persian potentates. He knew too
well that they despised the men who called them wives, even though fear
held them constantly in bond. Rebuffed, unnoticed, scorned, the women
themselves began to suspect and hate each other. If he spoke kindly to
one of them, be she fair and young or old and plain, the eyes of all the
others blazed with jealousy. Every eye in Japat was upon him; every hand
was turning against him.

It was Miss Pelham who finally took it upon herself to warn the lonely
American. The look of surprise and disgust that came into his face
brought her up sharply. She had been "taking" reports at his dictation;
it was during an intermission of idleness on his part that she broached
the subject.

"Miss Pelham," he said coldly, "will you be kind enough to carry my
condolences to the ladies at court, and say that I recommend reading as
an antidote for the poison which idleness produces. I've no doubt that
they, with all the perspicacity of lonely and honest women, imagine that
I maintain a harem as well as a bar-room. Kindly set them right about
it. Neither my home nor my bar-room is open to ladies. If you don't mind
we'll go on with this report."

Miss Pelham flushed and looked very uncomfortable. She had more to say,
and yet hesitated about bearding the lion. He noticed the pain and
uncertainty in her erstwhile coquettish eyes, and was sorry.

"I beg your pardon," he said gently.

"You're wrong about Lady Deppingham and Mrs. Browne," she began
hurriedly. "They've never said anything mean about you. It was just my
miserabl