ieh_ screens. The party
for whom this distinguished aloofness had been arranged made its
entrance through an unseen door, but the voices indicated that several
were at table there. The waiter who served this table apart might have
testified that one was an Englishman, wearing in addition to European
evening dress the native _tarboosh_, or fez. Also, that against his
white shirt-front glittered the Star of Galavia. The second diner wore
one of the many elaborate uniforms that signify Ottoman officialdom. His
eyes were small and pig-like, and as he talked no feature or gesture at
the table beyond escaped his appraising scrutiny.

There was one other behind the _mushrabieh_ screens. The niceties of his
dress were Parisian, punctilious, perfect. In his right lapel was the
unostentatious button of the _Legion d'Honneur_.

The Englishman spoke. "Much of your story, _Monsieur_ Jusseret, is
familiar to me. It will, however, prove interesting _in toto_, I
daresay, to our friend Abdul Said _Bey_, whom Allah preserve."

There was a murmur of compliment from the Turk, adding his assurance of
interest, and the Frenchman took up the thread of his narrative.

"We supposed that Karyl was dead--the Throne of Galavia clear for
Delgado. Alas, we were in error!" The speaker shook his head in deep
regret, as, turning to Martin, he added:

"It was a pardonable mistake. Let us hope the announcement was merely
premature." He lifted his wine-glass with the air of one proposing a
toast. "It becomes our duty to make that statement true. _Messieurs_,
our success!"

When the three glasses had been set down, the Englishman questioned:
"How did it occur?"

In the smooth manner of an after-dinner narrative, Jusseret explained
the occurrences of the night when he had brought his plans to an almost
successful termination. He told his story with charm of recital, verve
and humor, and gave it withal a touch of vivid realism, so that even his
auditors, long since graduated from the stage where a tale of
adventurous undertaking thrilled them, yet listened with profound
interest.

With the salad Jusseret sighed regretfully.

"I rather plume myself on one quality of my work, _Monsieur_ Martin. I
rarely overlook an integral detail. I, however, find myself growing
alarmingly faulty of judgment."

"Indeed!" The Englishman was not greatly engrossed in the
autobiographical phases of Jusseret's diplomatic felonies.

"I regret to acknowledge it, but it