e of the
white lady's hesitation.

This astounding piece of news swept away the feeble barrier Genevra
would have erected in her pique. Eagerly she joined in questioning the
Persian girl, but Neenah would only reply that Selim was waiting for the
sahib. The Princess was immeasurably consoled to find that the
body-servant had destroyed the fuses and that they were in no immediate
danger of being blown to pieces. She consented to accompany Chase into
the cellars, a spirit of adventure overcoming certain scruples which
might have restrained her under other conditions.

Neenah led them through the wine cellars and down into the vaults beyond
the dungeons. They descended three steep flights of stone steps, into
the cold, damp corridors of the lowermost cellars. Neenah explained that
it was necessary to move cautiously and without lights. Selim was
confident that there was at least one traitor among the servants. The
Princess clutched Chase's hand tightly as they stole through the bleak,
chill corridor; she found herself wondering if the girl was to be
trusted. What if she were leading them into a trap? She would have
whispered her fears into Chase's ear had not a sharp "sh!" come from the
girl who was leading. Genevra felt a queer little throb of hatred for
the girl--she could not explain it.

The dungeon was off to the right. They could hear the insistent murmur
of voices, with now and then a laugh from the distant cells. The guard
could be heard scoffing at his charges. With a caution that seemed
wholly absurd to the two white people, Neenah guided them through the
maze of narrow passages, dark as Erebus and chill as the grave. Chase
checked a hysterical impulse to laugh aloud at the proceedings; it was
like playing at a children's game.

He was walking between the two women, Neenah ahead, Genevra behind; each
clasped one of his hands. Suddenly he found himself experiencing an
overpowering desire to exert the strength of his arm to draw the
Princess close--close to his insistent body. The touch of her flesh, the
clutch of her cold little hand, filled him with the most exquisite sense
of possession; the magnetism of life charged from one to the other,
striking fire to the blood; sex tingled in this delicious riot of the
senses; all went to inspire and encourage the reckless joy that was
mastering him. He felt his arm grow taut with the irresistible impulse.
He was forgetting Neenah, forgetting himself--thinking only of