The evening world. Newspaper, April 29, 1914, Page 19

U Ooperight, 1003, by Bobbs-Merrill Co.) Gthorsts oF PRECEDING CHAPTERS, ‘Now Joruer ‘ de. CHAPTER Xi. The Summons. HE room, like most Moslem apartments, was fortunate- ly but dimly lighted. The fortable, however, either in gaind or body, and he might be less @o shortly. Then the dervish heard @he voice of Sadi, the saddier. His emesis! He was there. He could Bave well dispensed with him—an @ider friend than the dyer—antedat- od bis acquaintance with Amad, or t “You were telling me the search er thie—dervish has been unavail- * mg," Badi began. He hesitated be- fore the word “dervish,” but it might Pave been inadvertent. “It bas.” The dyer's voice was feurnful. They were all seated now @m ‘Amad's cushions, while before + ¢beni the bubble pipes bubbled stead- fy. "T regret no trace has yet been found of him. ‘The fellow has com- plete! ared. The Meare has been thorough?” Soma yen cout 1? Even the low earriors of water, the hawkers, the @akka sharbeh and others of that Class have been enlisted in the task. And do they not know all the nooks _— olgciecriald Could a mouse escape . half beggars themselves—ac- to all kinds of sleeping No, no, if the scoundrel were im the city, he would have been by, this time. He has been wed,’ “Perhaps no! observed Sadi @houghtfully. “You qo not know bie | coamigtomrrage I mean,” he ly, “you may see by what he 414 last night, he is not one without @xpedients. He might have escaped the swift waters. He is strong and ee eo th athlete. That is, I should so from the look I had of him,” & peculiar tone, “that day of the wedding. Also, he is a hadji (pilgrim Mecca), and has crossed deserts. le has death @ few thmes be- fore, and," slowly, “escaped. Though we have ‘not discovered him, he still may be hidden somewhere in Damas- us, The hemales may have over- fookea ‘some place in their search, le may be nearer than we know.” ‘The dervish hardly breathed now. Badi's perceptions were keen. In the he had been the deuce of a bore he promised to become even more o in the future. “I hold he ts dead,” said the dyer with conviction. “Allah,” plously, “would not permit a person of such fot to go unpunished. Never be- Our bel was there ingratitude so foul! Amad, raised the dirt. We fed and , only to be betrayed The scoundrel sold him out. blackmailing mustahall! a” The dyer’s tndignution was getting the better of him und more forcible epithets fell from his lips. revered frien “He seemed so holy, too! (Sadi Wralled oddly.) yho would not have + trusted him?” bemoaned the dyer ‘ Ditterly. “Why, he knew his Koran @s well as the preacher in the alcove ho addresses the pilgrims before y walk around the sacred black . Verne fairly dripped trom his (Again Sadi smiled, but said “When he prayed he never a word, Surely apy man deceived by a di eom! base! ‘The worthy mi @lways be fooled by the unworthy.’ * {a a saying, duplicity should be met with duplicity,” went on the 1} wala!” “Well, Amad back aga . Only, suppose this rob- Really dead?” The “robber of a substitute hus- 's” heart was beating faster. The place could hardly contain him le Amad soon to have his “pearl again! "what if the canal hadn't really g@wallowed the mustahall?” continued last speake: Sarna matter’—with a cunning “after what we are to do is will soon, have bis in.” 7" “True! He would not dare, then, rPe ccthe of four men"— “Not to mention Light of Life!" “He would be denounced as a vile impostor, if he attempted to galnsay js dead,” aid the dyer. more trouble. Yet when I of him—how Amad caused me rve him even like the gon of & n, and er’ be repaid all Ged oharity, I might wis! were not so ‘and that he stood here for me to deal . “Yea; if he were only here,” they M™urmurmed regretfully and suck ‘at their tubes, when a clatter of hoofs heard without. The dyer got Be is our worthy friend and pat- Satsay Tastily sbandoned pipes and tily abandoned p' an fons and ‘noved toward the door, Fatma, the beloved?” continued \e of the men, “She is safe, where Sthiore. 18 our worthy friend and pa- ‘Welcome presence upon her?” ‘Amed has Tooked. to that,” an- the 4: significantly, “At @ would kill her. But @id_ not, Her beauty melted his Test assured no one to approach his dearest, micts da his bags of wold in Yous cry ry ate tm the corner,” he effect—a ; the dervish? ; chological momen: dervish was not very com- }; aband were not 4 he 1 “And that probably disposes of his ed dervish, turned sharply. in bit of Ma lored garment seemed to,attract tention of one of the mi the dyer’s satellite—for his gaze big. bho It was more sober than the other tints and did not quite harmonise; it could not belong to a cushion or hanging, Was this circumstance ¢ about to dawn upon him? Would his somewhat al volved in a di Proceeding from ‘would lead to ih mind become in- juctive process which, large and startling most disagreeable one for Luckily for the latter, at that psy- it the voice of Amad was heard. It claimed attention. it etimulated the others and it stimula- ted the satelll| @atellite to one end. He did not ih to be outdone in alacrity in paying his respects to the rich diamond merchant. The dyer, Sadi and the other man were already at the threshold. The fellow quickly followed the trio through the door- way, out toward the front to meet im whose advancing footateps might already be heard ringing on the mar- ble. That tread did not seem to imply infirmity of purpose; it had a defi- nite combative sound. ‘The dervish behind the safe waited no longér, but got up swiftly; they might intercept him, but he dared not remain there, so must needs take @ desperate chance. The heavy rugs drowned the sound of his footete as he passed like « fiash across the room. Without, he saw that the dyer and the others were turned from him, id in the dim light he darted acroms iadowy space, reached the back airway, and, undetected, crept softly down tt. In the rear of the garden once more, the mind of the dervish was in a whirl, They were going to restore her to Amad and he couldn't prevent it. A sudden baneful light iHumined his mind. The four persona could swear that he, the substitute hus- band, had ready pronounced the triple divorce in their presence. Oh, it was simple; the very acme of simplicity and devilishness! And their affidavits would be entered after the record of the second marriage, in a@ great glazed parchment book in tie chamber of public documents. Amad would probably pay for an extra illumined letter or two as spe- gial reward for the poor mugawir or student who transcribed the text. He might even have it done in beau- tiful vowel-pointed Arabic, which costs double, « Night descended, a most funereal sort of night, and found the dervish working mechanically. He had 1 manner of havoc among and was now clipping just the sound of the snéppera. rant came out id called him into the stable for supper. He was not hungry and he wanted to satay in the garden, but he had no excuse for remaining there. So he forced down his throat a few more dates and a crust. “In the name of Allah!” The ser- the customary words F “Any news in the town?” said dervish. He had no desire to make conversation, but he thought the ser- vant might tell something of his m: ter, where the latter had gone when he had ridden forth on the Star, and what he had done, At his question the servant looked at him curiously and the dervish noted in his eyes an unusual sup- pressed gleam. ‘News?”" repeated the man and pointed to a window. “What does that look like?’ “A reflection in the sk said the dervish dully. “It is that.” Significantly. “Some house in the poor quarter aflame?” In the same tone. “Some house, c@ houses,” answered the man. “Soldiers went by to-day," anid the dervish, But he was not thinking of the soldiers, or the flames, or any- thing that might portend. “A wonderful night,” supplemented tho servant, with covert meaning. “Is it?” replied the dervish, with gaze far away. “Don't you think so?" ‘The sarvant asked the question sharply. Was the dervish stupid or less pious than he had seemed? “1? Surely {t {s a wonderful night.” “But not for Christians!” breathed the man softly. “And not one may leave tho city now, for the exits are all watchet. Any left in town will be destroyed. It ip the will of Allab. Several inspired holy men have proclaimed and it can not be other- w should Itke to go out this eve- interrupted the dervish sud- lenly. Why?" Surprised. “Perhaps even I, too, may have the Dlensed chance to strike a bi for the prophet. Do you t? tnk I ha: love for Christian: working hard all day, is not a man entitled to a little pious diver which will give him @ better place in Paradise?” ‘Well, you may go,” sald the man. “You needn't take the key, though, I'll Jet you in when you return.” ‘The dervish murmured an acknowl- edgment and moved swiftly toward the gate. To get out and go to her, at any cost—that, now, was what he must do. The servant had a key in dis hand, but he took an exasperatingly long fitting it in the ancient lock, atience! Now I have it,” replied the man and was about to turn the key and swing open the gate, when from the rear of the house a maid ser- pped rap- to see the new the idly toward them. “The master wis! helper,” she announced, looking CHAPTER XII. A Very Holy Man. EB?” For an instant the young man looked at the l gate as if tempted to es- say a forcible ogress, but there were bolts well as locks to be considered, “Why does he with to ese me?” “Fhat’s not for me to say,” dhe re- “Go at once.” She toyed with her veil, lifting {t @ little as if inadvertently. “It ts the night before his wedding. He is to be married to-morrow morning. As they walked toward the house VEL EACH ~Y door,” she observed. As if the dervish did not know! He had been glad enough to pass out of it safely once before that day. Would he be as fortunate on this occasion? “Is he alone?” the dervish asked in @ low voice. His eyes bad begun sud- denly to glitter. “T don't know. Sadi, the sadder, was with him. I was to admit you when he left." The saddler possibly still Amad had sent for the de inous circumstance, or c But very little seemed to matter now. ‘The dervish felt about as puissant as a Amad had worsted him. He ‘was going to be married on the mo row—this fe kept repeating itse!! in thé dervish’s brain. It stood out above all else. They halted at the door. Voices came from the inner room. “Why did you not speak of this pooner?” Amad's tense voice, within, was heard to say. “I wished to make sure,” Sadi an- swered, “And now you are sure?” Incisively, Something he left behind him, when he went so hurriedly Jast night, makes me so. Something which dropped from the clothes he changed and which was thrust with them under the settee in the suffeh!" “You have it?” Quickly. Sadi's reply was inaudible. They spoke in lower tones now—excitedly. Their accents were staccato, denot- ing keen interest, but what they sald Was still unintelligible to the dervish, Were they examining that “some- thing” that had once heen all in all to him? Yet he had not even no- ticed Its loss, His mind must have been strongly engrossed otherwise. Even now he felt an odd apathy that they should have it~though It repre- sented a fortune, his all, and he had left It behind him, in her house, The fact didn't seem to matter so much, somehow. “I remember a legend of an Eng- Mshman"—they heard Amad eay in a rasping voice, but his other words were lost. “What are they talking about?” murmured the woman at the der- vish's side. He shrugged. He felt no great con- cern over Sadi's ‘discovery.’ fow days ago it would have meant e' thing to him, but now—an extra ard or two—when his life wa: forfeited! hat’ he was thinking of—the t!rrev morrow! Sadi's words, now hea had almost a frivolous, unmeaning sound: “I ran across him accidentally one day after dusk, in our holy city of M Mecca, He had his arm in a hole in one of the Inclosure walls of the mosque. He had removed a few of the bricks, When he saw I had dis- covered him he made some excuse about a miracie-hole, and of draw- ing virtue from the tomb of @ rela- tive of the prophet on the other side, but I learned there was no tomb near. Then I remembered the lege.d or story you speak of"—— Sadi's satistaction seemed painfully frrelevant to at least one of the listeners. “1 suspected at Light of LAfe's.” The saddier spoke complacently, “Had T been consulted--but then, at that late moment, what could I, without authority, do? Besides, one should, not speak upon mere suspi- cion, however strong. What if I had been in error? Tho law against slan- derera is severe, Sometimes they are beaten and there are both prisons and fines for them as a penalty. | who, am a poor man dared not isk" — “You have done well,” Interrupted the diamond merchant, as if impa- tient of further explanation. "At least, you are not a fool, like many others, And no doubt you are right, This proof {s conclus! To think of the insult of our sacred religion!” Explosively. “But that is neither here nor there now,” he went on more calmly. “That idiot of a dyer tells me you do not think the fellow is dead?” Badi'a reply to the diamond mer- chant was the same as he had made to the dyer the others, only he gave now more emphatically his rea- sons for his bellef. “I do not agree with you in this, for obvious reasons.” ‘k, “Think of the reward I of- peso rs met el ee 2 mt N FROM BROADWAY me sald Sadi signifi- cantly. “The water is swift, but he is strong. On the march men fell and camels too, and the beggarly pil- arims stripped the flesh from the bones of the beasts, But he always had strength to go on.” “Tut! What an obstinate fellow you are!" cried Amad angrily. “How- ever, to entertain the impossible as & probability”— A moment later Sadi appeared at the threshold. you had better go to the master woman servant again 1 to the dervish. Sadi left the He had noticed the woman ." companion at the fur- 1 of the dark hall, but they wared only shadows to him. am ready.” The dervish ap- eared, at last, reconciled to the in- evitable, He started once more for- ward, when— “Remember your manners,” spoke his mentor sharply, “and what will be expected of you.” She was fast los- ing any concern she may have had for the fellow. a mere stableman more interests, “As you enter posture and pray Allah to bestow upon him the delights of paradise.” He watched her vanish before he stepped across the threshold into the mandarah, Amad looked up quickly at his en- trance, The ofl lamps of the apart- ment gave a restful but not a vividly illuminating light. The dervish noted the circumstance. Did Amad know him, and, if so, would he recognize him in sober serving attire? A sharp voice hade the dervish draw nearer and, posturing low, he did. so. In fact, he postured so low the dia- mond merchant could seé little, or nothing, of his face. “Delights of paradise! Delights of paradise!” he murmured — hoarsely “Felicity! Allah grant felicity! Tam the new servant, may it please the illustrious master.” bd “[ hear you." Approval appeared on Amad's face. Here was @ solict- tous servant, and a most reapectful ‘one, judging by the way he could bend his broad back. “I sent for you to give you instructions for the morrow. You"— “May Allah shower his blessings,” interrupted the dervish more fervently, but still nearer and bending ever lower. “Garlands of joy-—wreaths of'—— ‘yes, yes,” said Amad impatiently. ‘There was such a thing as being over- congratulated. Still he @trove to be complalsant, in keeping with the happy spirit of the occasion. “1 will even deliver verses and spe- cial prayers,” mumbled this new and most sedulous servitor, “Verses and chapters, without number”—— “T know that prayer {s good.” sald Amad sharply, “and that it !s good for servants to be pious in thelr mas- ter's behalf, but there ers for Amad'a wedding day! T vish was now close to the heavy tn- laid table behind which the merchant was seated, “Look up." commanded Amad imperiously, “and listen, ‘The dervish did look up, but he also did more than that, He reached out and grasped the other, stifling with an iron grip the yell about to Ineue from the throat of the startled and amazed diamond merchant. “Keep quiet or"——- There were no felicitationa in hia tones now, The sharp point of @ dagger pricked Amad’s skin and the latter's eyes blazed with sudden recognition. Amad did_know, then, who he was. “You!” he managed to murmur, murderous rage and hate in his gaze. What do you want?" “That,” aald the young man, “you will soon learn.” —— CHAPTER XIII, Captive. JHE dervish returned a fow | minutes Inter to the stable, and as soon as the stable- man was sound asleep re- Heved him of the outer doors key. Then, leading the Star of the Desert cautiously forth, the Gervish crept out into the night. e. oe naiereeseuteelreniaamnresonm 8 aeranttear mre weeny World Daily magazine. Wednesday, Apetil 29, =A COMPLETE Ina“ Light of Life's home the young girl, 4 little while tater, stood looking out. She was as much captive as if the aga of police had ordered her into Bet custody. Light of Life trusted her now less than ever and would guard her charge most closely until the @orrow. “Still us?" One of the subjects of her thoughts had nolselessly entered the room and Light of Life regarded the girl sourly, “You should retire, so aa to look wel the morrow. “But to-morrow tan't going to be tn, my wedding day.” “Tan't it? Why not?” The «irl was silent, though she could foel the ot! yes on bi keenly, curiously. “Why not?’ the elder woman re- “Do you hope ain as you did before, brasen that you are!” “Do you call that brasen?” laughed the girl. But it was not a gay, infec- tious laugh. ‘ou have no right to attempt to force me to this. You can not marry me in to that horrible old man. You deceived me—iied to me before, but now?—I was never his wife; I never will be. It is inconceiv able—impossible! Besides, you can not do it, because I am still a wife. ‘That—that mustahall did not divorce me.’ “Oh, yes, he did,” said Light of Life sweetly. “I don't believe ii “We have the affi fons who heard him.” “Affidavite! Lies, you mea Bo that was how they would overcome the difficulty. The dervish might not really be dead, then; he might re- appear, There was a chance; and these people would take no chances. “Take care of how you impugn the word of four honest men,” sald Light ofs Life severely. Below came a knocking at the gate lending into the court. “Who can’ that be, at this late hour?” Light of Life turned. Per- haps she was not sorry to terminate the Interview. “Some message per- taining to to-morrow, no doubt! I shall see,” she added and left the room. ‘The girl gazed mechanically dow! into the atreet before the house. “. message pertaining to the morrow. ‘What interest could it, or the mes- wenger, have for her? Vaguely in the dim light she discerned the figure of a horseman. His mount seemed nervous and struck impatiently at the stones with his hoofs, so that she saw a spark or two fly. The man, also, showed impatience and knocked again in more peremptory fashion, whereupon tho sleepy bowwab, grumbling about people who came at unseemly hours, opened the gate. The horseman thrust out an arm; the light from the lattice fell on it and on something white which he held toward the displeased Abyeninia: “A message from Amad Abl-Masr, said the horseman grutfy, delivered at once! Not an instant's delay! My master eays it is most important.” ‘The bowwab answered in more res- pectful tones and took the message, upon which the rider spoke to bis horse, wheeled und dashed away. Then slap, slap! *Blippers were de- ecending the stairs and the bowwab returned to his hard bed of burlap near the gate. Tho girl as from a A New Yorker's Stran Forbidden World”’ of the e Exploits Orient slight hope she may have had of being able to escape was quickly shattered. She was well ed. who, doubtlessly, had been carefully instructed. It would be foolish for her to attempt to get away. She would only make herself ridiculous before all these serving men and the other Already one of the former pressed closer to her side. This was going rather far, for servants, according to Punctillous code of Moslem are not supposed to ride by side of their young mistresses. ‘They were treating ber as @ criminal might expect to be treated. She fore- heless, to speak reprov- to this forward one of her guards; to do so would be only to lower herself. She proudly refused even to look at him. After all, what dig it matter? The ride would soon be over and had made up bi mind never again to enter Amad's house. Furt! her band breast, ‘The fellow was riding. very close now. A single motian of the arm, however, and it would make very little diftore whether any of the guard were far or n Yot still she hesitated, fingering the vial, Once it had held delicate perfume. How different its contents now!l, She started to draw it forth, when the horse of the guard, who had just an- noyed her by pressing too close, now brushed hi again came the low hoarse voice. But in the girl's face there was no “pard At that over-familiar, in- solent touch, the vial, in her surp! had fallen from her fingers. It hi fallen to the earth, and, perhaps, had been broken. At any rato it was beyond recall. She could not stop and turn back to get it. Her most preci Us possession Wee lost. Her face flamed with passionate anger inst him—this Insulting and biundering domestic—who had robbed her of it. She looked at him with flashing eyes. “How dared you?" she brea! choked tones. Her pride was in arms, She could have struck him with her riding-whip. It is probable that he—and he alone —heard, but he did not answer, His face was half turned from her and he th seemed impervious to his offense. He was tall and rode superbly. This fact dawned on her and surprised; ordi- nary houschold servants do not ride like that. Moreover, his mount was splendid, An impression of something familiar about the rider gradually crept over her, She could not see him ye very well, in that dim light, but the naq she now made sure was Star of the Desert. The fellow, then, must be from Amad's. The others of the escort who had noted hitu must have concluded Hkewise. At that moment the fellow turned hin face fully toward her. He did so just when a flicker of light from ono of the few grudging street-lamps could pans over his features. “Do not seem surprised—" he whis- greut, great distance, now cauxht the pered crackling of paper in the adjoining room, ‘Then silence followed, Silence of considerable duration, Light of Life had opened and wna reading the message. She returned holding the message in her hand and the paper shook, while consternation was writ- her sallow and unpropossea- intenance, rendy to leave the house at “Why at The girl looked ot her, once?” she said. “Why? Read.” And Light of Lite thrust the message before her. ‘The «irl scanned It. “Have just learned the Chris- quarter will be fired to- night. As your house is near, the danger is great. Leave at once with your duughter for my rest- dence, The wedding can take place here, Tam making all ar- rangementa for it and for the re- ception of yourselves and as many servants as you may choose for your escort. After thin a big blotch of red seal ing wax and the imprint of a great nen! “Hin peal,” murmured Light of Lite. Do I not know it? He keepa it in hin He ners But the postscript —read at. It expreaned greater perturbation on the part of the write ‘In the name of Allah, lose not & moment.” “There! What do you think of that?” said Light of Life. “T think that he is old and nervous,” tian replied the girl acornfully. “I don't believe there ia any danger.” "Wi you come, Light of Life's tonen became menacing, She would waste no more time. The shapely shoulders of the girl lifted. She knew she had no alterna tive. They would take her, will: nilly, If she held back they would rovide for her the hodag, or cloned itter, The giant bowwah might, In that case, personal attendant. She had no choice, indeed. She must fo, or—her hand reached to her breast. Yet she delayed a little. She would start with them, Yes; she could do that. An enigmatic expres- aion played around the sweet fresh Ips. She felt distinctly—how dia- tinctly! —- something cold and hard against her warm young breast, She Hked to foe) it, It reassured her, and with a smile she followed the elder woman from the room. enough cavalcade, the girl at her stepmother’s aide, well toward the front, not be- dusky bowwab commanded the outrid- ers and was prepared to shout to any who might get in their way. But the seen to that?—now fell back a little, Light of Life did not notice this fact, however, she was too concerned CHAPTER XIV, The Cavalcade. a HEY rode forth, an imposing cause she wished to ride there, but because the other had in- dicated her desires in this regard. The street before them was fairly deserted, Fatima's own horse, being a poor one—bad Light of Lifo designedly with ber own fears, and quickly the A sharp exclamation, however, fell from the girl's lips. She could not help it. Her mood had been tense and strained and aho felt as if she were locking at a ghost. She stared almost helplessly at the face; then it receded and darkness claimed it. The rider had quietly dropped back. Light of Life looked around, “In Allah's name what ts it?” my horse stumbled,” Doubtingly. I thought I should be It in @ poor beast.” “Humph! ‘The horse is well enough. You should learn to ride better than that. Keep with me.” ‘The girl was obliged to do so. Light of Life now gexed suspiciously back. Further down the road ap) lights people riding after them. Light of Life conceived this as a just cause for alarm. who had go startled the young girl, saw, also, those people coming after them. He shared Light of Life's opinion, too, that they were trying to overtake them, but not for the reasons that estimable lady at- tributed to them. Nearer to Amad's house! The young man looked toward girl. He could hardly see her for the intervening figures, and pressed suddenly forward, drawing his cloak ‘up about the lower part of his face, So a Mohamm protects his mouth and nostrila when the night air is cold, Passers-by, thus mi ) can hardly be told for friend or foe, He was now clone behind the young girl, en back « little—whether by accident or design, he could not tell--and, under the pretext that his horme was again unmanageable, he pressed directly in front of her. He was then between her and Light of Life. That person looked at bim; she saw but the steady cold eyes. She saw the girl, near enough. She saw the house of Amad, ringly close. So she sald nothin: 6 only gave her horse another whack. Clatter! clatter! A donkey mang. Awful melody! Behind them now some of the escort were calling out. What were they saying? That those coming after were friends—sent by Amad? Impossible! Bewtldered, Light of Life looked around. At the same moment the young man, now riding at the girl’ side, bent toward her and said some: thing. Again louder voices from he- hind, Confusion! There had been “no need for thetr leaving the house?” What was that? Who was yelling? ‘That awful donkey! More ear-spllt- ting music! The foremost of those following seemed to have come up and mingled with the van of Light of Life's party. It was like the meeting of two lively, thrown. Nearer! the converging currents, producing at the point of contact a turbulent and up- tossing eddy. Now they were at the croes street. Amad's house, yawning with eager and evil hospitality, loomed almost before them, when the young man again sald something to the girl. At ing toward him and the next moment she was swept from her horse and on his. jaunt of Life and threw up her a The Star aped down tbe crossroad, ‘The last glimpse the dervieh had of bie in-law she Be come tke a WEEK IN THE EV fore and behind her were servants thi je know the Star.” NING WORLD> = By Frederic S. Isham uthor of “UNDER THE ROSE,” Bte.== =A She may have been so-saming, too, Dut if eo, he did not hear it for ail the other noise and clatter. Some of @ after them, but fu- the Star was now a shooting ir velocity. ‘Delight of my soul,” the you ™man muttered—to the horse, of course, for thus do Arabs speak to their equine friends. The “delight” tossed his kingly head and sped on. It waa not a race, but @ walkaway. CHAPTER XV. Varying Fortunes. = > the dervish it was more han that. It was some- thing unreal, unbelievable. He could hanily credit hie, own good fortune, It had all been too ensy. Amada! He looked into the young face with the long lashes and aweet ud lips. That past! He would we blotted it out if he could. But it existed irrevocably. His face became eet and very stern. Hoe was jealous and he knew it. She would never have belonged to that other. It waa all wrong. Nothing could make it right. Nature herself oried out against it. Just then they came to an open mar- ket place, The girl stirred. “Where are we going?” Slight con- straint in the girl's tones, “Where?” He started. Where, in- deed? Here he had just been riding on with very little thought of what would happen. He had merely been enjoying himself; no, not exactly that. ‘There were too many thorns on this rose d'amour that had blossomed and bloomed in his soul, or brain, or breast, or somewhere. “We can’t go on like this. They fastened wall. porary refuge. “Do you see anything of them?” she asked, looking back. Mo, “We're sat We mbet” o acing here, anyway? His heart still beating an ‘tT aaw him,” he said. old ‘ou did?” She seemed “Yes, I worked for him.” “Lt don't understand.” “To think of their having married Epo ttg him. You! Him!" he mut- eee pers ie seen! You think at I-" Brea iy, nately. “But I never ‘was —Peally|vacd never would be.” “What!" The word rang out. le “Never!” repeated. “Tt is pre- peed posterous, | le!" She did not look at him. She did not see him. It was as if he were not there. Life and he. died, and he pretended—" Her voice died away. “I waa to take her place —the ceremony was to be a mere for- mality. And then—and then”—— He Netened as if entranced. He could not move. “The old scoundrel!” he half breathed. “I drew my dagger. I think I even laughed. It—it was so preposterous. And then he divorced”—— ‘That was all. All? His heart was hammering now, He felt a greater emotion than when, at the critical mo- don't wi ment, he had snatched her away from them. “But-—" he managed to say, “you were riding back to his house? You had not, then, made up your mind to —to make the best of it?" It was awkwardly expressed, he knew, “Made up my mind?” The sweet ie curved goftly, almoat mockingly. hen you touched my arm, I dropped something.” her. began to see hi ‘That straight direct look to! i} there was no fear in ft. “By Allah,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘That—that old wretch! And the old ci He meant bis ved moth one with a The girt smile ow—actually smiled. bird's, Or, maybe it only the ghost of a amile. Per! his yehemence a: aled to her, Or, perhaps she won- jered why he wae so vehement? “And to think,” burst frout him, “I apared him!” al “You mean, you had him tm your power?” fi “Yes; I could have put ft out of his power ever to have annoyed you in.' illed him?’ The dark eyes were on bil im. “Yes. Why not?” “But you couldn't?” “He wan old, and defenseless!” Defenseless? She stared at him. ded in t! ethics where an enemy ‘s concerned, m= do not spare. ‘You are sorry I didn't?” he de- mand ‘You blame me?” Preasion of or sometht it stopped unresolved. 0, ." wi He was glad of that. His “wife” ‘wan an angel, “flee here," he sald. get out of this—Damascus, I mean. You can't atay here now, nor can I. Tell you the reason." He stopped; “We've got to enough. time to tell her that now. He had to diery? Never! ble for her to do it. ‘Th t she sang; his ment had become rat! confused, love song, of shimmering — spota, bird with « thorn against its breast, if to entertain ‘The old man me te aly z fmpoestte eornn and it is im sing an; his voloe for the wedding.” “rhe Sere vish protested vel Bhe for that low riff-raff of would be impossl- Not « large thrill ‘in or all a bard! between hia own moonlight in a grove, apeke viger. eol- sional exertions, he received an “ ‘the the traditional sof the kind, The song on som seemed to end where it ought not; threw off the glamour. It was very wonderful, at | him, He didn't look at her now 7 was siraid be might not appear gr then reconsidered, There was no and Started for the cele bedi, (To Be Continued.) as CAPT. VELVET'S WELCOME By Edgar Franklin wiLt GIN IN =NE X T= Monday's Evening World hs : * pany eee Rx Next Week’s Complete Novel The “eck Nahe vials | t York for the firet 4 |