ew no limits.

The air was warm and close, aromatic with the ghosts of ten thousand
perished perfumes. The quiet, when Karslake had closed the door, was
oppressive, as if some dark enchantment here had power to tame and silence
the growl of London that was never elsewhere in all the city for an instant
still.

On a great table of black teakwood inlaid with mother of pearl burned a
solitary lamp, a curious affair in filigree of brass, furnishing what
illumination there was. Its closely shaded rays made vaguely visible walls
dark with books, tier upon tier climbing to the ceiling; chairs of odd
shape, screens of glowing lacquer; tables and stands supporting caskets of
burning cinnabar, of ivory, of gold, of kaleidoscopic cloisonne; trays
heaped high with unset jewels; cabinets crowded with rare objects of
Eastern art; squat shapes of neglected gods brandishing weird weapons;
grotesque devil masks ferociously a-grin; chests of strange woods strangely
fashioned, strangely carved, and decorated with inlays of precious metals,
banded with huge straps of black iron, from which gushed in rainbow
profusion silks and brocades stiff with barbaric embroideries in gold- and
silver-thread and precious stones.

Confused by the impact upon her perceptions of so much that was unexpected
and bizarre, the girl looked round with an uncertain smile, and found
Karslake watching her with a manner of peculiar gravity and concern.

"Prince Victor is an extraordinary man," Karslake replied to her unspoken
comment; "probably the most learned Orientalist alive. Sometimes I think
the East has never had a secret he doesn't know."

He paused and drew nearer, with added earnestness in his regard.

"Princess Sofia," said he, diffidently, "if I may say something without
meaning to seem disrespectful--"

Perplexed, she encouraged him with one word: "Please."

"I'm afraid," Karslake ventured, "you will have many strange experiences in
this new life. Some of them, I fancy, you won't immediately understand,
some things may seem wrong to you, you may find yourself confronted with
conditions hard to accept ..."

He rested as if in doubt, and she fancied that he was listening intently,
almost apprehensively, for some signal of warning. But on her part Sofia
heard no sound.

Impressed and puzzled, she uttered a prompting "Yes?"

"I only want to say"--he employed a tone so low that she could barely hear
him--"if you don't mind--whatever happens--I'd