and his grip tightened on the little box.

"Confess," he said once more, "and you shall have it."

For one moment more she tried to struggle on, still not speaking.
Balsamides rose and quietly put the case into his pocket, anticipating a
struggle. He little knew what the result would be. The miserable
creature uttered a short cry, and a wild look of despair was in her
eyes. Suddenly, as she crawled upon the divan, she reared herself up on
her knees, stretching out her wasted hands towards him.

"Give--give"--she cried. "I will tell you all--he is alive--he is--a
wan--"

Her staring black eyes abruptly seemed to turn white, and instantly her
face became ashy pale. One last convulsive effort,--the jaw dropped, the
features relaxed, the limbs were unstrung, and Laleli Khanum fell
forward to her full length upon her face on the peach-colored satin of
the divan.

She was dead, and Gregorios Balsamides knew it, as he turned her limp
body so that she lay upon her back. She was quite dead, but he was
neither startled nor horrified; he was bitterly disappointed, and again
and again he ground his heel into the thick Sine carpet under his feet.
What was it to him whether this hideous old hag were dead in one way or
another? She had died with her secret. There she lay in her shapeless
bag-like gown of snuff-colored stuff, under the brilliant lights and the
gorgeous mirrors, upon the delicate satin cushions, her white eyes
staring wide, her hands clenched still in the death agony, the coarse
hair clinging to her wet temples.

Presently the body moved, and appeared to draw one--two--three
convulsive breaths. Gregorios was startled, and bent down. But it was
only the very end.

"Bah!" he exclaimed, half aloud, "they often do that." Indeed, he had
many times in his life seen men die, on the battlefield, on the hospital
pallet, in their beds at home. But he had never seen such a death as
this, and for a moment longer he gazed at the dead woman's face. Then
the whole sense of disappointment rushed back upon him, and he hastily
strode down the long hall, under the lamps, between the mirrors, without
once looking behind him.

XVIII.

Balsamides found Selim outside the door at the other end of the passage,
sitting disconsolately upon the divan. The Lala turned up his ugly face
as Gregorios entered, and then rose from his seat, reluctantly, as
though much exhausted. Balsamides laid his hand upon the fellow's arm
and looke