ghing, men and women ran back to the house, which in
one hour they had stripped bare.

Just before the dawn a great flame shot skywards, an orange ribbon
across the purple robe of dying Night.

* * * * * *

_Requiem_

"There was an awful row in the Bazaar last night," said Mr. Ephraim
Perkins to his spouse facing him across the breakfast table. "They
killed a woman and burned her house down."

"Really, dear?" said Mrs. Ephraim Perkins, rasping butter on a piece of
toast. "These natives want a firm hand over them. Poor thing! They
usually stab each other in the East, don't they?"

"Yes; I think so. But they threw this one into a lions' den."

"Now, that's exaggeration, Ephraim." The knife never stopped its
rasping. "They would not be allowed to keep wild beasts in a populated
quarter."

"Stranger things happen in the native quarter, Maria," misquoted Mr.
Perkins, "than are dreamt of by the Government official."

True words!

If we dared penetrate the labyrinths of the bazaar and stir with
foolish finger the dust which lies thick upon immemorial custom, what
should we not find?

But having a meed of wisdom in the full measure of our imperial
insularity, we do not pry with foolish fingers; guessing, even knowing
of the wild beasts in those labyrinths, we draw a glove upon the hand
and walk delicately in the opposite direction, with half-closed eyes.

"I repeat, it is an exaggeration," stubbornly replied Mrs. Ephraim
Perkins, as she stretched for the marmalade. "And I do hope the
fire-engines arrived in time."

CHAPTER XXVII

"_A tale-bearer revealeth secrets; but a man of
understanding holdeth his peace_."

PROVERBS.

It was the night of the full moon.

It was also the night of the cotillon given by a certain princelet of
unpronounceable name and great wealth, who hailed from one of those
countries in Europe where quasi-royalties abound.

The cotillon-favours were to be of extraordinarily fine quality.
Rumour spoke of gold cigarette-cases and other such trifles, for both
sexes; the supper was to be a Bacchanalian feast; every invitation had
been accepted--_ca va sans dire_. The hotel was like a disturbed
wasps' nest, and the buzzing of the chatterers and the gossips
well-nigh deafening.

Damaris had decided to go to the ball; in fact, since her storm of
tears on her return from the unlucky visit to Denderah she had taken
the broad view of th