, with a complexion white as my own, high cheek bones, small
black, brilliant eyes, and hair plentifully tinged with grey. Her
personality was altogether a striking one, for her brow was low, her face
hawk-like, and her long, bony hands resting on the arms of the seat of
royalty seemed like the talons of the bird to which her face bore
resemblance.

It was the Naya, the dreaded Great White Queen!

Her robes of rich brocaded silk were of a brilliant golden yellow,
heavily embroidered with gold thread, and thickly studded with various
jewels. In the bright flood of sunlight that struck full upon her from
the painted dome above, the diamonds and rubies enriching her handsome
corsage gleamed and flashed white, green and blood-red. Indeed, so
covered was her breast by the fiery gems that as it heaved and fell their
flashing dazzled us; yet in her eyes was a cruel, crafty gleam that from
the first moment I saw her roused instinctively within me fear and
suspicion.

No smile of welcome crossed her cold, implacable features as her gaze met
that of her son Omar; no enthusiastic or maternal greeting passed her
lips. Her maids of honour and courtiers grouped about her murmured
approbation and welcome as the heavy curtains fell aside, but frowning
slightly she raised her bejewelled claw-like hand impatiently with a
gesture commanding silence, darting hasty glances of displeasure upon
those who had, by applauding, lowered her regal dignity. On either side
black female slaves in garments of crimson silk and wearing golden
girdles, massive earrings and neck chains, slowly fanned the ruler of Mo
with large circular fans of ostrich feathers, and from a pedestal near
her a tiny fountain of some fragrant perfume shot up and fell with faint
plashing into its basin of marvellously-cut crystal. The splendour was
barbaric yet refined, illustrative everywhere of the tastes of these
denizens of the unknown kingdom. The walls of the great hall were
strangely sculptured with colossal monstrosities, mostly hideous designs,
apparently intended to depict the awful wrath of the deity Zomara, while
here and there were curious frescoes of almost photographic finish, the
execution of which had been accomplished by some art quite unknown to
European civilization. The paving whereon we stood was of jasper, highly
polished, with here and there strange outlines inlaid with gold. These
outlines, a little crude and unfinished, were mostly illustrative of th