ded wrist stuck into the front of his jacket, "_Je suis
Chretien. J'y reste,_" he cried, a gallant falsehood in each sentence.

"What do you say, Mr. Stephens?" asked Mansoor in a beseeching voice.
"If one of you would change, it might place them in a good humour.
I implore you that you do what they ask."

"No, I can't," said the lawyer quietly.

"Well then, you, Miss Sadie? You, Miss Adams? It is only just to say
it once, and you will be saved."

"Oh, auntie, do you think we might?" whimpered the frightened girl.
"Would it be so very wrong if we said it?"

The old lady threw her arms round her. "No, no, my own dear little
Sadie," she whispered. "You'll be strong! You would just hate yourself
for ever after. Keep your grip of me, dear, and pray if you find your
strength is leaving you. Don't forget that your old aunt Eliza has you
all the time by the hand."

For an instant they were heroic, this line of dishevelled, bedraggled
pleasure-seekers. They were all looking Death in the face, and the
closer they looked the less they feared him. They were conscious rather
of a feeling of curiosity, together with the nervous tingling with which
one approaches a dentist's chair. The dragoman made a motion of his
hands and shoulders, as one who has tried and failed. The Emir
Abderrahman said something to a negro, who hurried away.

"What does he want a scissors for?" asked the Colonel.

"He is going to hurt the women," said Mansoor, with the same gesture of
impotence.

A cold chill fell upon them all. They stared about them in helpless
horror. Death in the abstract was one thing, but these insufferable
details were another. Each had been braced to endure any evil in his
own person, but their hearts were still soft for each other. The women
said nothing, but the men were all buzzing together.

"There's the pistol, Miss Adams," said Belmont. "Give it here!
We won't be tortured! We won't stand it!"

"Offer them money, Mansoor! Offer them anything!" cried Stephens.
"Look here, I'll turn Mohammedan if they'll promise to leave the women
alone. After all, it isn't binding--it's under compulsion. But I can't
see the women hurt."

"No, wait a bit, Stephens!" said the Colonel. "We mustn't lose our
heads. I think I see a way out. See here, dragoman! You tell that
grey-bearded old devil that we know nothing about his cursed tinpot
religion. Put it smooth when you translate it. Tell him that he cannot
e