hrough.

The Jinnee plunged into one of these, and Boris and I followed.
There was nothing else for us to do.

"This is safest way. If I come through house, I am seen. Not want
that," said Achmet, over his shoulder.

I made no reply. I was wondering what The Author would have said had
he seen us at that moment--The Jinnee shuffling ahead in heelless
slippers and Oriental dress, upon his woolly head a red fez with a
silver crescent on it, and on his breast a string of _saphies_,
verses from the Koran, in exquisite Arabic script, framed in flat
round pieces of silver and strung on a chain. Boris, larger and
nobler even than most of his breed, paced behind him. Then came I, a
slim blonde woman, with fair hair powdered, in a dress a century
old.

The passage wasn't quite six feet high, and so still that you
could hear the beating of your heart. Achmet's slippers went
_scuf-scuf-scuf_. Boris swayed from side to side, his tongue
lolling, his eyes phosphorescent. He resembled those ghost-hounds
of old stories, terrific beasts that follow the Wild Huntsman.

We went down some steps. I shouldn't have been surprised had I found
myself climbing the beanstalk after Jack. Dazedly I thought: "I'll
wake up in the morning and tell them at the breakfast-table what a
wonderful dream I had." I could fancy the Lady with the Soul
clasping her hands, and The Author crinkling his eyes, and Alicia
laughing.

This last passage, which, I learned afterward, ran under the
carriage house, presently crooked like an elbow and led us into a
windowless and stone-floored little room, under the cellar. On the
opposite side of the room was the opening of another such passage,
with stone steps leading to it. On these steps sat Nicholas Jelnik.

He got to his feet and stood looking at me. A momentary red rushed
to his cheek, and his eyes flashed. Boris, tongue out, tail wagging,
rubbed against him, and the master's hand dropped between the
speaking eyes with a swift caress.

"Good dog! You came with her!"

"And I. Am I not also a good dog?" asked The Jinnee, jealously.

Mr. Jelnik's reply I did not understand, but Achmet made a
respectful salutation, and his grin was the grin of a little boy.

"Sophy!" said Nicholas Jelnik, and his voice shook, "Sophy! Oh, I
knew you would come!" He gave a low, pleased laugh. "And now she is
here, she doesn't even ask why I have sent for her!"

"The mistress," said Achmet, "should have been of the Faith. May