Royson, a soldier by instinct if not by training, realized the folly of dashing blindly into a fray the nature of which was hidden from him. Though the plight of his erstwhile companions must be desperate—though the lengthening shadows warned him that the time ran short—it was all-important that he should learn the manner and direction of the attack, and the means adopted by von Kerber for repelling it, ere the presence of the relieving force became known. He had heard much of the fighting qualities of the Hadendowas. They were brave, but they were not given to throwing their lives away uselessly. Judging by the steady crackling of musketry, they were "eating up" the smaller contingent with the least possible risk to themselves. They were quite capable of delivering a fierce charge when they witnessed the approach of the rescuers, or, on the other hand, they might allow the newcomers to combine with von Kerber, and depend on their rifle fire to dispose of the reinforced defense. He must decide quickly, once he knew the conditions, and it was imperative, therefore, that something in the nature of a reconnaissance should be conducted from the shoulder of the rising ground which terminated the plateau. By shouting to Abdur Kad'r and signaling to his own men, Dick managed to check the furious onward rush of the detachment. It was no easy matter to stop the excited camels. The stubborn brutes were equally unwilling either to travel at such a rate or to abandon it. Before the sky-line was reached, however, they were pulled up. Royson, Abdur Kad'r and Abdullah dismounted, and ran rapidly to the crest, dodging behind rocks and broken ground until they secured a clear view of the panorama in front. It was a singular and, in one respect, a disconcerting scene that met their anxious gaze.

The only practicable road descended rapidly towards an immensely wide and shallow depression. Conceivably, this basin might have been formed by the subsidence of the land all round an extinct volcano, whose one-time activity was revealed by a cluster of small cones in the distance. Running due east, and passing north of the crater thus curiously marked, was the arid river-bed which created the oasis, and rendered possible the well which gave its name to the place. Unfortunately, the group of lava hillocks was situated much beyond the center of the hollow. They were commanded by small hills on three sides, and, though capable of defense in some respects, they offered the grave disadvantage of being in a circle. Consequently, the only section secure from an enemy's fire was that on the western side, and it was evident that the defenders had found this to be actually the case. They were, of course, clearly visible from the ridge, where, unknown to them, the leader of a strong relief was then lying in the cleft of a rock split to its base by extremes of heat and cold.

Dick counted the cones. There were seven, of them. Though fully a mile and a half distant, he could see Mrs. Haxton sitting between two huge boulders. Von Kerber was near her, and the few Arabs with them were scattered among the rocks in positions whence they could return the incessant fusillade poured on them from the hills. Their camels were huddled in a hollow between the two westerly mounds, and, so far as Royson could judge, the little party had not yet sustained many casualties. But the tactics of their assailants were quite obvious. The Hadendowas, silently and unseen, had occupied the higher ground on the north, east, and south. They had probably stampeded the unsuspecting kafila from the open oasis, because a couple of tents and some camp equipage still stood there, and it was their intent to creep nearer, pushing the horns of an ever-closing crescent steadily westward, until a junction effected just before sunset would permit of a successful rush. Indeed, all doubt on this point was dispelled by the discovery of two strong companies of Hadendowas gathering on the reverse slopes of the nearest hills. They were mounted, mostly on camels. They did not reveal their existence by taking part in the firing. They seemed to be waiting some signal before they rode out into the plain, to complete the merciless ring which would then surround the doomed occupants of the Seven Hills.

There was not a moment to be lost, and Royson, having formed his plan, put it into instant operation. He and the six sailors would be the first to cross the sky-line, while a few Arabs would accompany them, but hurry back as soon as they were visible, giving the impression that they had gone to summon others. The men from the Aphrodite would ride straight, at top speed, towards the beleaguered party. Two minutes later, Abdur Kad'r was to lead half his Arabs over the ridge and make for the enemy's right wing, while, after a similar interval, Abdullah, at the head of the remaining detachment, would similarly dash into sight and advance against the enemy's left. The opposing force would thus see three successive waves of rescuers, each apparently stronger than its predecessor, coming from the only direction whence succor was possible. Alfieri and his followers were well aware already of the strength of Mr. Fenshawe's expedition. If they imagined that it was advancing in its full numbers, they might break and run without firing another shot. If, however, they showed fight, Abdur Kad'r and Abdullah had most stringent orders not to pursue the flanking parties, which they would certainly drive in on the main body. They were to converge towards the hillocks, where Royson would, by that time, have brought hope and renewed courage to their hard-pressed friends. Then, granted that the Hadendowas dared a general attack, the whole force, rescuers and rescued, were to fall back, converting the struggle Into a rear-guard action, and compelling the Hadendowas to relinquish the advantage of the higher ground. Once they came into the open, Royson counted on the superior shooting of his six sailors—all marksmen of the Royal Navy—to turn the scale unmistakably in his favor, while his Arabs had the confidence of knowing that each mile they gained in the retreat brought them nearer the powerful caravan in the rear.

The scheme was excellent in every way. Under ordinary conditions it would have achieved success, but the sane mind can never take into reckoning the vagaries of the insane, and it is quite certain that Alfieri, worn alike by hardship and long brooding over his wrongs, either went stark staring mad at the spectacle of relief being forthcoming for those whom he believed to be entrapped, or gave instant rein to the frenzy already consuming him.

At a moment, then, when it was suicidal to attempt an attack which his men had refused to carry out under the much less dangerous conditions that prevailed all day—it was ascertained afterwards that the first shower of bullets fell into the startled camp about ten o'clock that morning—at that moment, Alfieri, screaming curses in Italian and Arabic, called on those nearest to follow him, and rode out from the shelter of one of the small hills. In sheer excitement, a few Hadendowas obeyed his wild command. They had not far to go, but the rocky water-course barred the track and they must cross it slowly. Now, above all else, was the time for the sorely-tried little band under von Kerber to stand fast. They could have shot at their leisure Alfieri and each man of the half dozen who came with him. Already three groups of yelling men were stirring the dust into life as they scampered to the rescue across the comparatively level floor of the basin. In five minutes, or less, the Hadendowa attack would be rolled back into the hills, and neither friend nor foe had any other thought than that the whole of Mr. Fenshawe's kafila was pouring its irresistible power into the fray.

The situation was precisely one of the suddenly-arising and acute crises in warfare which accentuate the difference between races. While von Kerber, and Mrs. Haxton, too, for that matter, saw the urgent need of prolonging the desperate strife for just those few minutes, their Arabs, after fighting coolly and bravely throughout an exhausting day, now quite lost their heads. Heedless of the Austrian's prayers and imprecations, heedless of Mrs. Haxton's shrill appeal that they should beat off the few assailants then perilously close at hand, they yielded to the blind instinct of self-preservation, and rushed pell-mell for the camels. At once these men of a martial tribe, men who had cheerfully faced the far greater danger of the Hadendowa general attack, became untrammeled savages, each striving like a maniac to secure a mount for himself, and careless whether or not his employers and comrades escaped also.

Many of the camels were wounded, some were dead, and valuable time was wasted, even in this disgraceful sauve qui peut, in a deadly struggle for possession of such animals as could move. Von Kerber, when it was borne in on him that to obtain a camel meant life for Mrs. Haxton and himself, shouted to her to keep close to him, and ran in front of a mounted Arab who had emerged from the melee. He ordered the man to halt, and, so near were Royson and his tiny squadron just then, that the camel might have brought all three into safety. But the Arab bent his head, and urged the swaying beast into a faster trot. Von Kerber fired at him, and the unhappy tribesman tumbled from his perch like a dummy figure. Snatching at the camel's head-rope, the Austrian lifted, almost threw Mrs. Haxton up to the saddle. Owing to its height from the ground, it was impossible to place her there securely, but she helped him bravely, scrambled somehow to the awkward seat, and stooped to drag him up behind. She had succeeded, by main force. The excited beast was plunging forward again to get away from the affrighting turmoil close to its heels, when a heavy thud shook the huge frame, the camel fell to its knees, lurched over on its side, and threw both riders heavily.

Von Kerber alone rose. He was dazed for an instant, but he seemed to have a dim consciousness of the quarter from which mortal peril threatened, for he turned and faced Alfieri, who had reined in the Somali pony he rode and was taking deliberate aim at his enemy. The Italian carried a repeating, rifle. It was he who had brought down the camel with a well-judged shot through the lungs, and, with the same venomous accuracy, he now sent a bullet through von Kerber's breast. The stricken man dropped on all fours, and glared up at his murderer. Then, nerving himself for a supreme effort of hate, he raised his own revolver and fired three times at Alfieri. Twice he missed, owing to the restiveness of the horse, but the third shot hit the Italian in the center of the forehead.

When Royson found them, they were lying within a few feet of each other. Alfieri was dead. His pale student's features, softened by the great change, wore a queer look of surprise. Von Kerber was alive, but dying. He had fallen on his face, and Dick lifted him gently, resting the drooping head against his knee.

"Are you badly wounded?" he asked, knowing well by the ashen pallor beneath the bronze of the desert that the man's stormy life was fast ebbing to its close. A dreadful froth bubbled from von Kerber's lips, and the words came brokenly:

"That Italian beast—I hit him, yes?"

"I suppose so. I could not see what happened. But he is dead. Pay no heed to him. Tell me what is best to be done for you."

"Dead! Ach, lieber Gott! That is good…. I—I am finished—I know…. Go to Mrs. Haxton. Tell her … the treasure … Fenshawe will be generous…."

And that was all. He did not die instantly, but consciousness failed, and the soul soon fluttered out of the limp body with a sigh.

Dick laid the inanimate form on the desert. He went to look for Mrs. Haxton. She was stretched, apparently lifeless, beneath the camel's Shoulder. Royson seized the huge beast by the neck and flung it aside bodily. So far as he could judge, she was uninjured, though he feared the camel might have broken one of her limbs or fractured a rib, because his first thought was that the animal had fallen on top of her. But his anxiety was soon dispelled when he forced some of the contents of his water-bottle between, her set teeth. She sobbed twice, and her bosom rose and fell spasmodically. Then, with a sudden return to the full use of her senses which, was almost uncanny, she wrested herself free from his arms and shrank away, quivering, while her eyes gazed at him with awful questioning. As she looked she seemed to understand that this man who had held her so tenderly was not the man whom she feared to see. The reaction was too great. Dick watched the glance of recognition fading away into insensibility. With a little gasp, she fainted again, but he knew, this time, that her collapse was the natural sequel to the ordeal she had gone through. He roughly bundled a camel cloth into a pillow, laid her head on it, and gave the attention that was necessary to events elsewhere.

He had appreciated the fatal error of the friendly Arabs in deserting their stronghold. Though he and his companions pressed on at a dangerous speed, they could do nothing to stop the panic. Some of the runaways almost charged into them, and seriously interfered with their view of the advancing Hadendowas. That was only for a moment, but seconds are precious when men are shooting at point-blank range, and Royson was lashing an Arab out of his path at the instant Alfieri fired the first shot at the double-laden camel. The Hadendowas scattered and fled when they caught a glimpse of the white faces. But they did not get away unscathed. Slipping out of their saddles, four of the Aphrodite's crew opened fire, and brought five of the robber tribesmen headlong to earth, while the sixth saved his skin by falling with his wounded camel and skulking unnoticed to the hills along the water-course. As for the remainder, the flanking parties bolted before Abdur Kad'r or Abdullah could get within striking distance, and from that hour no sensible Hadendowa came near the Well of Moses for many a month.

In fact, Royson found that his own men were already standing quietly in a group, waiting for orders, and the two detachments of caravan Arabs were coming in from the wings in accordance with his preconcerted plan. Some of the bolting escort were returning. They looked shamefaced when they passed von Kerber lying dead on the ground. One of them, a Hadji, who wore the green turban and black cloak of a pilgrim to Mecca, began to murmur an explanation to Royson, but the giant Effendi gave him such a glance of scorn and anger that the man made off, lest the evil from which he had fled might yet befall him. In the immediate foreground were several prostrate forms, mostly Arabs injured in the fight for the camels, and so gravely wounded that they could not move. A struggling camel or two, screaming and kicking in agony, seemed to be strangely out of place in the peaceful hush which instantly enfolded the desert. The shouting and musketry that made pandemonium there a few minutes earlier had vanished. The tops of the more distant mountains were glowing in purple and gold, and the blue of the sky was deepening. In that brief hour before the utter darkness that follows sunset the desert has a rare beauty. It has lights and shades denied to softer landscapes. Titania's bower can show no more brilliant color effects. It is then a fit background for romance and mystery, but it breathes no hint of war or death, and such things wear a sacrilegious aspect when brought forcibly into those fairy-like surroundings.

Royson, though he had watched the transformation of rock and arid earth many a time with kindling eyes, gave small heed to the dream-face of nature as he scanned the splendid prospect for sign of further attack by the Hadendowas. He found none, but he happened to note the furtive manner of some among the Arab escort who were hastening toward the small hollow enclosed by the Seven Hills.

Then he remembered why this solitary place had become a Golgotha. The hapless von Kerber was disinterring the treasure when the Hadendowa assault began. In all likelihood, had the free-booters ridden boldly up in the first instance, the fight would have ended in less minutes than it had occupied hours. And these other ghouls, before they were driven off by a hail of lead, had learnt what store of wealth was buried there beneath the sand.

"Chaytor," said Royson, addressing one of the crew who had acted as quartermaster on board the yacht, "take three men and mount guard over any trench or other excavation you may find in the valley between those mounds. Let no Arab even approach the place. Use force if necessary, but try and avoid any shooting. I shall join you there before sunset."

"Ay, ay, sir," said Chaytor. He named three men, and the four hurried to their post. Bidding the other two sailors help him, Royson turned to carry out a disagreeable task. Von Kerber, Alfieri, and the rest must be buried while there was yet light. He meant to make a rough inventory of documents and letters found in the pockets of the Europeans. The Arabs would scoop shallow graves where the sand was deepest, and pile heavy stones over the bodies to protect them from jackals. Such was the simple ceremony of the desert. And it demanded haste.

But a distressing sight awaited him. Mrs. Haxton was kneeling by von Kerber's side, and weeping in a heart-broken way. He went to her, and said, almost in a whisper:

"You can do no good by remaining here. Won't you go to the tent that is fixed in the oasis, and wait there until I join you? I shall not be long. You understand—it is for the best."

She raised her streaming eyes, and he had never before seen such a grief-stricken face.

"Mr. Royson," she murmured dully, "let me pray yet a little while."

"Indeed I am sorry for you," he said. "Yet I must urge you to go. We have not a moment to lose."

"To lose? What else can happen?"

"The night is coming. We cannot leave the bodies here. It would be too horrible."

"Ah," she sighed, "there is no horror to equal mine. I have the blood of three men on my soul."

She suffered him to lead her away. He tried to console her by throwing all the responsibility on to the Italian. But he felt that this palsied woman scarce listened to his words. He was almost glad to leave her alone with her mournful thoughts. In active work he could find distraction from the sad influences of this fatal treasure-hunt. There were still many things he did not comprehend, but he resolutely dismissed all self-communing. Perhaps, when the first paroxysm of woe had exhausted itself, Mrs. Haxton might explain; meanwhile, he must endeavor to hide the chief features of the tragedy ere Irene arrived.

When he moved Alfieri's body is order to examine his clothing, he saw that the man's coat was torn at the breast, the cloth having caught a jagged rock as its wearer fell from the saddle. Through this rent a pocketbook and some papers had slipped out. They were resting on a little sand drift at the base of the rock that had caused the damage. The pocketbook was open. Some of the sand had entered its compartments. And, in one of them, were the papyrus leaves found in the tomb of Demetriades, the Greek, whose mortal eyes were the last that had gazed on the treasure of Sheba! In truth, here was one of the world's dramas, with its scenes divided by two thousand years, yet the parched desert was content to wait there placidly, in sure and certain knowledge that the curtain would rise again on that grim play, whether the years were few or many between the acts. How little changed was the stage. But what of the actors? Did the modern troupe differ so greatly from the two-thousand-year-old cast—the merchant in ivory and skins who quitted his quiet business at Alexandria to seek adventure and gold, the Romans who went to kill and plunder an inoffensive people, the Nubians who waylaid them, and left their bones to bleach? Assuredly, looking at the dozen or more dead bodies stretched in a row at his feet, Royson deemed mankind as unchangeable as the desert.

* * * * *

At two o'clock, when the stars and a new moon were dimly lighting the circle of hills, an Arab vedette reported the approach of a large kafila from the west. Soon the jingle of accouterments and the cries of camels who scented the oasis heralded the arrival of the main body. When Dick lifted a weary Irene from the saddle he made no pretense of shyness, but kissed her quite heartily.

Yet Dick's tidings caused grave faces in the small circle round the camp-fire. Mr. Fenshawe, as responsible leader of the expedition, felt the weight of this added burthen of death. There was no gainsaying the fact that he had been dragged into an unlawful enterprise. He was in Italian territory against the will of the authorities. Though he and those under his control were guiltless of actual wrong-doing, it was exceedingly unfortunate that Alfieri had not lived to make a deposition. The treasure-seekers must now depend on the testimony of the wounded Hadendowas, four of whom had surrendered voluntarily, for the one great principle which the East has learnt from the West is that Europeans usually show humanity to a disabled foe. Abdullah, too, assured the millionaire that the Italian officer who accompanied Alfieri from Massowah warned the latter against any act of violence, and would have restrained him from undertaking an apparently useless search if the instructions received from Rome had not directed that "every assistance was to be given to Signor Giuseppe Alfieri."

There could be no manner of doubt that the Italian had begun an unprovoked attack on the smaller kafila. His only messengers were bullets, and the orders he issued to the Hadendowas were definite. The whole party was to be exterminated, with the exception of Mrs. Haxton, who was to be taken alive if possible. Again, there was direct evidence of his duplicity with regard to the meeting arranged for that morning. Fenshawe's friendly letter was found among his papers, so he had hurried from his camp on the Suleiman's Well route with the deliberate intention of wiping out of existence the man who was his sworn enemy. Still, the affair wore an ugly look, and tired though he was, Fenshawe had no thought of rest until the contradictory elements of a most perplexing business were sifted.

He was seated near the fire with Royson and Stump. Irene had gone to
Mrs. Haxton the instant she heard Dick's tragic story.

"Has Mrs. Haxton thrown any light on events?" Fenshawe asked. "You say she was completely broken down. Did you gather from her words that von Kerber brought her here knowing that this oasis was the place described by the Greek?"

"She did not even mention the treasure. Perhaps I could have induced her to speak, but—"

"You forbore. I am glad of it. Has any of the loot been discovered?"

"It was dark when I visited the trench von Kerber was cutting. Alfieri sent a volley at him, and stopped the work before much was done, but the Arabs tell me that some leather wallets are visible. The men who were here this morning know that the contents are valuable, so I have stationed an armed guard there."

"I wish I could destroy every vestige of the wretched stuff. There is a curse on it."

Fenshawe's tone revealed how deeply he was moved.

"Where is Abdullah?" he cried suddenly. "If he will tell us the truth, we may reach firm ground in the midst of all this morass of lies and treachery. Send for him. He is an Arab, and, if he thinks his interests are bound up with ours, he will speak."

Abdullah, surveying the conclave from afar, had arrived at an opinion that justified this estimate. His first words shed light on a dark place in the records of the two men who were lying side by side in the safe keeping of the desert. His command of French rendered conversation easy, except to Stump, and he was quite explicit.

"Madam is beautiful, is it not?" he said, indicating Mrs. Haxton's tent by a graceful gesture "Seven years ago, she was the most beautiful woman in Egypt. Her husband should not have brought her here. By Mahomet, Egypt is no place for the good-looking wife of a poor man. That is the cause of all the trouble, messieurs. Elegant birds require glided cages, and Monsieur Hasten had not money enough. I met them first in Massowah, where she lived in the hotel, while her husband went up and down the Red Sea in a ship. Alfieri was there, and he also was poor, but he ruined himself in trying to win her away from Monsieur Haxton. He failed, and, like many another man, that only made him worse. When Monsieur Haxton was sent to Assouan, by a new company, Alfieri went there, too. It was at that time I found the papers which tell about the treasure—"

"How do you know they tell about the treasure?" broke in Fenshawe.

"Because I stole them from Monsieur Haxton," was the cool reply. "I had sold them to Monsieur Alfieri, and he gave them to Madame's husband. Monsieur le Baron was his doctor, and a friend, but, when he found out how valuable those papers were, he hired me to secure them from Monsieur Haxton's bureau while he slept. Unfortunately, there was an accident. Monsieur Haxton was in a fever, and the doctor gave him a sleeping draft. Monsieur Haxton took too much, and he never woke again."

Fenshawe's face grew dark with anger.

"You scoundrel!" he cried. "Between you, you poisoned the man. I recollect the incident now. I saw it in the papers at the time."

"You are wrong, Monsieur," said Abdullah calmly. "There was an inquiry, and it was proved that the draft was only a strong one—quite harmless if the doctor's written orders were obeyed. True, none but I and the Baron knew why the Englishman should sleep so soundly that night, but it was not meant to kill him. Monsieur Alfieri charged the doctor with having committed a crime, so Monsieur Haxton's friends had the affair fully examined into. It was really an accident. Monsieur le Baron was exceedingly grieved."

"But he kept the papers?" was Fenshawe's grim comment.

"By the Kaaba, and why not? Here was Monsieur Alfieri trying to hang him, and all because Madame would not have anything to do with him. You see, there was every reason why the Hakim Effendi should get the papers. Monsieur Haxton was fool enough to tell Alfieri something about them."

"Probably Monsieur Haxton meant to play the part of an honest man."

"It may be. Who knows? Yet it is certain that Alfieri would never have shared the treasure with Monsieur Haxton If he had known what the writing was about. On the other hand, Monsieur le Baron told Madame everything, and he promised me a good share for helping him. When he went to England he left me to watch Alfieri. They were always enemies, those two."

Dick remembered the letter in Arabic he had seen von Kerber reading on the night they met in the Austrian's house. And he recalled, too, with a shiver, Mrs. Haxton's agonized words when he tried to lead her away from the dead man who had dared so much for her sake. She had "the blood of three men on her soul," she said. One of those men was her husband. In that dark hour, what terrible shadows had trooped from the tomb to torture her! He said nothing to his companions. She knew. He only guessed, and he left it at that.

* * * * *

Next day many hands completed the task von Kerber had begun. But Fenshawe had made up his mind on a course of action, and he adhered to it rigidly. The list given by Demetriades was almost correct. One hundred and seventy wallets were brought to light, just two less than the number stated by the Greek. They were left unopened. Exactly as they were taken from the sand so were they sealed and set aside until transportation details were arranged. Mr. Fenshawe pointed out to the men from the Aphrodite how important it was that the treasure should be made over to the Italian Government intact. By that means alone could their story be justified, and he guaranteed that no one should suffer financial loss by reason of his decision.

Mrs. Haxton was too ill to be either questioned or consulted. She was carried to the sea almost at death's door, and her ultimate recovery was doubtful even a fortnight later, when the Aphrodite brought them all to Aden. And it may be said here that the monetary value of the treasure was not great—its utmost figure being placed at £50,000. The two missing wallets were those containing the gems. Probably that was another story which the desert has in safe keeping. The Italian Foreign Office behaved generously to the disappointed archeologist. He was acquitted from any blame in regard to the affray at the Well of Moses, and he was asked to select for his own collection twelve of the ancient Persian and Indian gold vases which formed the chief prizes of the hoard.

But that was long afterward, when Sir Richard and Lady Royson were on their honeymoon trip to Japan, when Captain and Mrs. Stump, attended by the faithful Tagg, had enjoyed the "time of their lives" at Orme Castle, and when Mrs. Haxton, elegant as ever, but very quiet and reserved in manner, was living in a tiny villa at Bath, where Mr. Fenshawe's munificence had established her for the remainder of her days. She said, and there was no reason to disbelieve her, that von Kerber had no knowledge of the identity of the oasis at the Well of Moses. He went that way to the sea by sheer, accident and became half crazy with excitement at the sight of the Seven Hills. It was his fixed intention, she declared, to send word to Fenshawe as soon as he had ascertained, beyond range of doubt, that the Sheban loot was really buried there.

Dick and his wife passed a fortnight at Cairo on their voyage home. They chanced to admire some old praying carpets in a shop in the bazaar, and asked the price. They offered half the sum named, and the attendant, a slim youth, said he would consult his father.

A tall, stoutly-built Arab came from a dark inner apartment. His regular, somewhat grave, features at once expanded into a delighted smile.

"By the Prophet!" he exclaimed in excellent French, "I am overjoyed at seeing you, Monsieur et Madame. You will drink coffee with me, is it not? And, as for the rugs, take them. They are yours, I set up a shop with the money Monsieur Fenshawe gave me, and I am prosperous! Que diable! That was a lucky journey for me when we all went south together. I have left the desert now. Behold! I am a good citizen, and pay taxes."

Irene laughed. She had never pictured Abdullah the Spear-thrower as a shop-keeper, and waxing fat withal.

"You, at any rate, found treasure at the Well of Moses," she cried.

Abdullah glanced at her happy, smiling face. He turned to Royson, and bowed, with something of his former grace.

"Let me congratulate you, Monsieur, on your far greater fortune," he said.

*****

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