nd in
the buckles of her lovely shoes; a big bunch of pink carnations was
tied on the top of her ebony stick; a priceless lace veil fastened over
her head by a fragile wreath of diamond leaves fell almost to the hem
of her dress behind. She had discarded the terrifying perruque, and
her own hair, snowy-white, was puffed and curled about the little face,
which was finely powdered and slightly rouged. She was a dream of
beautiful old age, with Dekko just visible under a huge pink bow upon
her shoulder.

"May I present a very old woman to youth?" she said simply.

"Darling," cried Damaris as she ran forward and, pushing the yashmak to
one side, kissed the jewelled hand. "You are too beautiful--too
beautiful! Promise me never, never, never to wear it again."

"I'm too old to get rid of bad habits, cherie," said her godmother.
"And we had better go down. By the way, what is Ben coming as?"

"I really don't know," came the muffled reply from behind the yashmak,
"if he comes at all."

As Cairo entire had accepted the invitation, the place was packed, but
nowhere was the crowd so suffocating as round the entrance to the
Winter Garden.

"Per-fect-ly wonderful," gasped a rotund Ouled Nail to a masked dancer
of the same sex and size. "He told me about that terrible time when I
lost so much at bridge--you remember, dear, when I had to--er--to raise
money on my diamonds. How could he have seen it in my hand?"

He hadn't; he had been a guest at Hurdley Castle with her.

"What's he like?"

"Oh, I couldn't see his face, on account of the handkerchief thing, but
I think he's quite common; his clothes are quite poor. I believe he is
one of the waiters dressed up. I seem to recognise his voice. Have
you long to wait?"

"I'm twenty-fifth down the list. Who's in now?"

"Some woman in black. There are four of them, and I can't tell t'other
from which."

The hand of the woman who was twenty-fifth down the list was never told.

Damaris lifted the curtain, and walked into the corner of the Winter
Garden, which had been temporarily given the appearance of an Arab's
tent.

"_Salaam aley_," she said gently, giving the word of peace.

The fortune-teller salaamed with hands to forehead, mouth and heart, in
the beautiful Eastern gesture.

"_Aleykoum es-Salaam_!" he replied as gently, which is the sacrament of
lips.

There was the fortune-teller's regulation small table, with a chart of
the stars and a silver tray co