a terrible
medicine. Listen to the pleasure of his Majesty the Hunkyar." He rose,
and pressed the document to his lips and forehead.

"What!" cried Laleli, in sudden terror, her voice gathering strength
from her fright.

"It is an order, dated to-day, to arrest Laleli Khanum Effendi, and to
convey her to a place of safety, where she shall await the further
commands of his Majesty."

"It is false," murmured the Khanum. But her white fingers twisted each
other nervously. "It is a forgery."

"So false," replied Balsamides, with cold contempt, "that the adjutant
is waiting outside, and a troop of horse is stationed within call to
conduct you to the place of safety aforesaid. I can force you to lay his
Majesty's signature on your forehead and to follow me to my carriage, if
I please."

"Allah alone is great!" groaned the Khanum, her head sinking on her
breast in despair. "Kader,--it is my fate."

"But if you will deliver me this man alive, I will save you out of the
hands even of the Hunkyar. I will say that you are too ill to be removed
from your house,--unless I give you my medicine," he added, flattering
her hopes to the last.

"Give me time. I know nothing--what shall I say?" muttered Laleli
incoherently, her thin fingers twitching at the stuff of her
snuff-colored gown, while as she bent her head her short, coarse, black
hair fell over her yellow cheeks, and concealed her expression from
Gregorios.

"You have not much time," he answered. "The pain will soon seize you
more sharply than before. If I arrest you, your sentence will be
banishment to Arabia,--not for this crime, but for that other which you
thought was pardoned. If I leave you here without help, my sentence upon
you is pain, pain and agony until you die. It is already returning; I
can see it in your face."

"I must have time to consider," said Laleli, her old firmness returning,
as it generally did in moments of great difficulty. She looked up,
tossing back her hair. "How long will you give me?"

"Till the morning light is first gray in the sky above Beikos," replied
Gregorios, without hesitation. "But for your own sake you had better
decide sooner."

Laleli was silent. She must have had the strongest reasons for refusing
to tell the secret of Alexander's fate, for the penalty of silence was a
fearful one. She felt herself to be dying, but the morphine had revived
in her the hope of life, and she loved life yet. But to live and suffer,
to go t