heik's daughter here!"

Ryder gave a quick laugh but the impression of his laughter was not
as sharp as the impression of his alarm.

"I did tell them it was preposterous," Thatcher began, "but, you
see, after finding the horse--"

"Oh, the horse! I got him for a song--of course the beggar is
stolen. Give him back, if they claim him. But as for any sheik's
daughter--keep the crowd out, Thatcher, I won't have them here, not
in these tombs--"

"I tell you they are policemen--they are armed--you can't resist--"

"How many are they? A lot? But they'll take your word, won't they?
Look here, McLean, can't you settle this for me and keep them out?"

"The natives have been talking," murmured Thatcher, reddening still
deeper, "and they have said enough about your riding in at night
and--and keeping to this tomb all day to make the men very
suspicious. They are watching this one now--"

"Then keep them back--long as you can. For God's sake," entreated
Ryder with that strange passionate violence. "Andy--you do
something--hold them back. Give me time. I--I've got to get some
things together--I won't have them at my things--hold them back--out
here--till I come."

He was gone. Gone tearing back into the gloom and silence of his
tomb. And McLean and Thatcher, astounded witnesses of his outburst,
turned speedily to the entrance, avoiding each other's eyes.

Agitatedly Thatcher was murmuring that Ryder's finds were valuable,
immensely valuable, and it was disturbing to contemplate any
invasion, and with equal agitation but more mechanical calm McLean
was murmuring back that he understood--he quite understood--

As for understanding he was stunned and dazed. A sheik's daughter!
And the father himself claiming her--under the direction of a
blond-mustached man.... And a stolen horse.... Jack conceding the
horse.... Jack utterly upset at the search party....

But he himself had seen that new-placed shaft with its inscription
to Aimee Marie Dejane.... What then in the name of wonders did this
mean? There couldn't be _another_ girl? McLean's imagination
faltered then dashed on at a gallop. Some--some hand-maiden,
perhaps, whom Jack had rescued in mistaken chivalry? Perhaps the
French girl has sent a maid on ahead?

McLean's head was whirling now. One thing appeared quite as possible
as another. Pasha's daughters and sheik's daughters, stolen horses
and Djinns and Afrits and palaces and masquerades at wedding
receptions appear