would have been like describing the Pyramids
by saying they were stone. However can I describe the wonder that I
found ..."

A sort of flush appeared on Crabbe's boyish face. "I--I'm afraid I have
run off the track of my story a bit," he stammered, "but I may as well
tell you all of it."

"Take a drink of whiskey;" said Duckford slowly, "and take your own
time."

"Margot looked at me, her lips quivering. 'You've not found much "copy"
I'm afraid,' she answered despondently.

"'Now,' I said, meeting her eyes, '"copy" matters not at all ... you are
all that matters.'

"It does not in the least concern you or the story to know what manner
of a woman Margot is. But I might say that she is in fulness a
woman--not a fribble, or one of those pick-me-up-and-carry-me women. So
when I said plain words to her she did not pretend to misunderstand.

"'Don't let us be conventional,' I went on, 'It wouldn't fit in with
these wonderful days a bit. Perhaps I've no right to talk to you like
this--but Ombos is dead and you seem to have no friend in the world. We
have got caught up, you and I, in one of the marvellous tangles of this
great conflict, and God knows how it's all going to end. But it seems to
have been written in the book of fate that we should meet, and whether
Ombos and his bronze statue haunts me to the end of my days or he
doesn't, I'm glad I have met you, and to know for just one swift hour
I've used these hands of mine in your service. I wouldn't take back one
minute of these great days!'

"Margot was regarding me with her wide eyes, a little startled, but I
saw beyond those rounds of tourmaline a soft light.

"'How is it?' said Margot calmly. 'A few hours ago you hadn't spoken
more than a few words to me ... you don't know me.'

"'In times of war,' I reminded her, 'we live a year in a day.'

"Margot rested her chin on her hands. 'What a strange world it is,' she
murmured.

"'Confoundedly strange,' I agreed. 'I can't help thinking even now that
my meeting with Ombos in that weird den in the Rue Bar-le-Duc was all a
dream, and I'm going to wake up soon.'

"'I didn't mean that,' Margot said quietly. 'That didn't seem so strange
to me. Perhaps it's because I lived with Ombos for nearly four years.'

"'It was just like a page torn from the _Arabian Nights_ to me,' I said.
She smiled at me wanly.

"'The only other home I've known was with foster-parents in Paris when I
was quite a child,' she said. 'I was br