ged him.

That done they poured silently through that black gap of the postern
into the spacious gateway. On he led them, at a run almost, towards the
tall mullioned windows whence a flood of golden light seemed invitingly
to beckon them.

With the servants who met them in the hall they dealt in the same swift
silent fashion as they had dealt with the gatekeeper, and such was the
speed and caution of their movements that Sir John and his company had
no suspicion of their presence until the door of the dining-room crashed
open before their eyes.

The sight which they beheld was one that for some moments left them
mazed and bewildered. Lord Henry tells us how at first he imagined that
here was some mummery, some surprise prepared for the bridal couple by
Sir John's tenants or the folk of Smithick and Penycumwick, and he adds
that he was encouraged in this belief by the circumstance that not a
single weapon gleamed in all that horde of outlandish intruders.

Although they came full armed against any eventualities, yet by their
leader's orders not a blade was bared. What was to do was to be done
with their naked hands alone and without bloodshed. Such were the orders
of Sakr-el-Bahr, and Sakr-el-Bahr's were not orders to be disregarded.

Himself he stood forward at the head of that legion of brown-skinned
men arrayed in all the colours of the rainbow, their heads swathed in
turbans of every hue. He considered the company in grim silence, and the
company in amazement considered this turbaned giant with the masterful
face that was tanned to the colour of mahogany, the black forked beard,
and those singularly light eyes glittering like steel under his black
brows.

Thus a little while in silence, then with a sudden gasp Lionel
Tressilian sank back in his tall chair as if bereft of strength.

The agate eyes flashed upon him smiling, cruelly.

"I see that you, at least, I recognize me," said Sakr-el-Bahr in his
deep voice. "I was assured I could depend upon the eyes of brotherly
love to pierce the change that time and stress have wrought in me."

Sir John was on his feet, his lean swarthy face flushing darkly, an oath
on his lips. Rosamund sat on as if frozen with horror, considering Sir
Oliver with dilating eyes, whilst her hands clawed the table before her.
They too recognized him now, and realized that here was no mummery. That
something sinister was intended Sir John could not for a moment doubt.
But of what that s