im
horrific suspicion was raging like a forest fire.

He continued his converse with the Pendletons while Jinny went for
the things; she returned with a small bag containing coat and hat
and veil, and the announcement that she would go right over with
him.

"If the things aren't right I'll know what he wants," she declared,
and then, smiling, "What _do_ you suppose he is up to now?"

McLean felt that he didn't want to know. And most positively he
didn't want her to know. But having lacked the instant inspiration
to deny her, he could only acquiesce and wonder why he hadn't
thought up some brilliant excuse.

He looked helplessly at the Pendletons, but they merely murmured
their adieux and their independent niece accompanied McLean to his
waiting carriage as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

* * * * *

The caravan was before them. A long line of camels was just turning
in the gates and before the steps of a back entrance other camels,
kneeling with that profound and squealing resentment with which even
the camel's most exhausted moments oppose commands, were being
relieved of their huge loads by natives under the very minute and
exact direction of Thatcher.

And within the entrance a young man with rumpled dark hair and a
thin, bronzed face flushed with impatience was imperiously conveying
the Arabs who were bearing the precious sarcophagi.

Over his shoulder he caught sight of the two arrivals.

"I asked for motors--and they furnished these!" he cried
disgustedly, gesturing at the enduring camels. "It took us all day
though we half killed the brutes.... Hello, Jinny, did you bring the
things?"

With light casualness he accepted her appearance on the scene. That
glitter in his bright hazel eyes was not for that. "Come in, both
of you," he called, plunging after his men.

At the foot of the stairs McLean waited with Miss Jeffries until the
men had reached the top and deposited their burdens in the room and
in the manner which Ryder was specifying so crisply, and then they
came mechanically up.

McLean had the automatic feeling of a mere super in a well rehearsed
scene. He had no idea of plot or appearance but his role of dumb
subservience was clearly defined.

"You understand," Ryder was calling to the men, "nothing more goes
in this room. All else down stairs.... Come in," he said hurriedly
to his waiting friends, and shutting the door swiftly behind them,
"