poulos preferred Safiyeh. Zahara could hear him coming to her
room even as she sat there, chin in hands, staring at her own bewitching
reflection. Presently she would slip out and speak to Harry Grantham.
Twice she had read in his eyes that sort of interest which she knew so
well how to detect. She liked him very much, but because of a sense of
loyalty to Agapoulos (a sentiment purely Egyptian which she longed to
crush) Zahara had never so much as glanced at Grantham in the Right Way.
She was glad, though, that he had not gone, and she hoped that Agapoulos
would not detain her long.

As a matter of fact, the Greek's manner was even more cold than usual.
He rested his hand upon her shoulder for a moment, and meeting her
glance reflected in the mirror:

"There will be a lot of money here to-night," he said. "Make the best
of your opportunities. Chinatown is foggy, yes--but it pays better than
Port Said."

He ran fat fingers carelessly through her hair, the big diamond
glittering effectively in the wavy gold, then turned and went out.
Sitting listening intently, Zahara could hear him talking in a subdued
voice to Safiyeh, and could detect the Egyptian's low-spoken replies.

*****

Grantham looked up with a start. A new and subtle perfume had added
itself to that with which the air of the room was already laden. He
found Zahara standing beside him.

His glance travelled upward from a pair of absurdly tiny brocaded
shoes past slender white ankles to the embroidered edge of a wonderful
mandarin robe decorated with the figures of peacocks; upward again to
a little bejewelled hand which held the robe confined about the slender
figure of Zahara, and upward to where, sideways upon a bare shoulder
peeping impudently out from Chinese embroidery, rested the half-mocking
and half-serious face of the girl.

"Hallo!" he said, smiling, "I didn't hear you come in."

"I walk very soft," explained Zahara, "because I am not supposed to be
here."

She looked at him quizzically. "I don't see you for a long time," she
added, and in the tone of her voice there was a caress. "I saw you more
often in Port Said than here."

"No," replied Grantham, "I have been giving Agapoulos a rest. Besides,
there has been nobody worth while at any of the hotels or clubs during
the last fortnight."

"Somebody worth while coming to-night?" asked Zahara with professional
interest.

At the very moment that she uttered the words she recognized her er