ut Stephen
opened it almost instantly, to look out. It was as he expected. The tall
Negroes stood lazily on guard. They scarcely showed surprise at being
caught, yet their fixed stare was somewhat strained.

"I wonder if there's to be a signal?" thought Stephen.

It was very still in the reception-room of Sidi Mohammed. The young man
sat down opposite the door of that inner room from which the marabout
had come to greet him the other day, but he did not turn his back fully
upon the door behind which were the watchers. Minutes passed on. Nothing
happened, and there was no sound. Stephen grew impatient. He knew, from
what he had heard of the great Zaouia, that manifold and strenuous lives
were being lived all around him in this enormous hive, which was
university, hospice, mosque, and walled village in one. Yet there was no
hum of men talking, of women chatting over their work, or children
laughing at play. The silence was so profound that it was emphasized to
his ears by the droning of a fly in one of the high, iron-barred
windows; and in spite of himself he started when it was suddenly and
ferociously broken by a melancholy roar like the thunderous yawn of a
bored lion. But still the marabout did not appear. Evidently he intended
to show the persistent Roumi that he was not to be intimidated or
browbeaten, or else he did not really mean to come at all.

The thought that perhaps, while he waited, he had been quietly made a
prisoner, brought Stephen to his feet. He was on the point of trying the
inner door, when it opened, and the masked marabout stood looking at
him, with keen eyes which the black veil seemed to darken and make
sinister.

Without speaking, the Arab closed, but did not latch, the door behind
him; and standing still he spoke in the deep voice that was slightly
muffled by the thin band of woollen stuff over the lower part of his
face.

"Thou hast sent me an urgent summons to hear tidings of my son," he said
in his correct, measured French. "What canst thou know, which I do not
know already?"

"I began to think you were not very desirous to hear my news," replied
Stephen, "as I have been compelled to wait so long that my friends in
Oued Tolga will be wondering what detains me in the Zaouia, or whether
any accident has befallen me."

"As thou wert doubtless informed, I am not well, and was not prepared to
receive guests. I have made an exception in thy favour, because of the
message thou sent. Pray,