h environment in which she found herself,
Phil sat very near to Mrs. McMurdoch on a settee, scarcely listening to
the conversation, and taking no part in it.

For there was a strange and disturbing air of loneliness about Hillside.
She would have welcomed the appearance of a butler or a parlourmaid,
or any representative of the white race. Yes: there lay the root of
the matter--this feeling of aloofness from all that was occidental,
a feeling which the English appointments of the room did nothing to
dispel. Then a gong sounded and the party went in to lunch.

A white-robed Hindu waited at table, and Phil discovered his movements
to be unpleasantly silent. There was something very unreal about it all.
She found herself constantly listening for the sound of an approaching
car, of a footstep, of a voice, the voice of Paul Harley. This waiting
presently grew unendurable, and:

"I hope Mr. Harley is safe," she said, in a rather unnatural tone.
"Surely he should have returned by now?"

Ormuz Khan shrugged his slight shoulders and glanced at a
diamond-studded wrist watch which he wore.

"There is nothing to fear," he declared, in his soft, musical voice. "He
knows how to take care of himself. And"--with a significant glance of
his long, magnetic eyes--"I am certain he will return as speedily as
possible."

Nevertheless, luncheon terminated, and Harley had not appeared.

"You have sometimes expressed a desire," said Ormuz Khan, "to see the
interior of a Persian house. Permit me to show you the only really
characteristic room which I allow myself in my English home."

Endeavouring to conceal her great anxiety, Phil allowed herself to be
conducted by the Persian to an apartment which realized her dreams of
that Orient which she had never visited.

Three beautiful silver lanterns depended from a domed ceiling in which
wonderfully woven tapestry was draped. The windows were partly obscured
by carved wooden screens, and the light entered through little panels
of coloured glass. There were cushioned divans, exquisite pottery, and a
playful fountain plashing in a marble pool.

Ormuz Khan conducted her to a wonderfully carven chair over which a
leopard's skin was draped and there she seated herself. She saw through
a wide doorway before her a long and apparently unfurnished room dimly
lighted. At the farther end she could vaguely discern violet-coloured
draperies. Ormuz Khan gracefully threw himself upon a divan to the right