an expression of blank disappointment was the result, for
the paper was blank and she had expected a communication. She looked up
inquiringly, and beaming intelligence displaced the blank when she saw
that Foster made as though he were writing large text on his drawing.
She at once flattened the bit of paper on her knee--eyeing the Moor
anxiously the while--and scribbled a few words on the paper.

A loud cough from Foster, followed by a violent sneeze, caused her to
crush the paper in her hand and again become intensely statuesque.
Prompt though she was, this would not have saved her from detection if
the violence of Foster's sneeze had not drawn the Moor's first glance
away from her and towards himself.

"Pardon me," said the middy, with a deprecatory air, "a sneeze is
sometimes difficult to repress."

"Does painting give Englishmen colds?" asked the Moor sternly.

"Sometimes it does--especially if practised out of doors in bad
weather," returned Foster softly.

"H'm! That will do for to-day. You may return to your painting in the
garden. It will, perhaps, cure your cold. Go!" he added, turning to
Hester, who immediately rose, pushed the paper under the cushion on
which she had been sitting, and left the room with her eyes fixed on the
ground.

As the cat watches the mouse, Foster had watched the girl's every
movement while he bent over his paint-box. He saw where she put the
paper. In conveying his materials from the room, strange to say, he
slipped on the marble floor, close to the cushion, secured the paper as
he rose, and, picking up his scattered things with an air of
self-condemnation, retired humbly--yet elated--from the
presence-chamber.

Need we say that in the first convenient spot he could find he eagerly
unrolled the paper, and read--

"I am lost! Oh, save me! Osman has come! I have _seen_ him!
_Hateful_! He comes to-morrow to--"

The writing ended abruptly.

"My hideous sneeze did that!" growled Foster savagely. "But if I had
been a moment later Ben-Ahmed might have--well, well; no matter. She
_must_ be saved. She _shall_ be saved!"

Having said this, clenched his teeth and hands, and glared, he began to
wonder _how_ she was to be saved. Not being able to arrive at any
conclusion on this point, he went off in search of his friend Peter the
Great.

He found that worthy man busy mending a rake in a tool-house, and in a
few eager words explained how matters stood. At first the