house.
Thither they followed, while the soldier at the gate laughed
again, and at the sound of his mockery Godwin's cheek grew red.
Even in the cool, darkened room she noticed it, and said,
bitterly enough:

"What does it matter? Such insults are my daily bread whom they
believe--" and she stopped.

"They had best say nothing of what they believe to me," muttered
Godwin.

"I thank you," Masouda answered, with a sweet, swift smile, and,
throwing off her cloak, stood before them unveiled, clad in the
white robes that befitted her tall and graceful form so well, and
were blazoned on the breast with the cognizance of Baalbec. "Well
for you," she went on, "that they hold me to be what I am not,
since otherwise I should win no entry to this house."

"What of our lady Rosamund?" broke in Wulf awkwardly, for, like
Godwin, he was pained.

Masouda laid her hand upon her breast as though to still its
heaving, then answered:

"The princess of Baalbec, my mistress, is well and as ever,
beautiful, though somewhat weary of the pomp in which she finds
no joy. She sent her greetings, but did not say to which of you
they should be delivered, so, pilgrims, you must share them."

Godwin winced, but Wulf asked if there were any hope of seeing
her, to which Masouda answered:

"None," adding, in a low voice, "I come upon another business. Do
you brethren wish to do Salah-ed-din a service?"

"I don't know. What is it?" asked Godwin gloomily.

"Only to save his life--for which he may be grateful, or may not,
according to his mood."

"Speak on," said Godwin, "and tell us how we two Franks can save
the life of the Sultan of the East."

"Do you still remember Sinan and his fedais? Yes--they are not
easily forgotten, are they? Well, to-night he has plotted to
murder Salah-ed-din, and afterwards to murder you if he can, and
to carry away your lady Rosamund if he can, or, failing that, to
murder her also. Oh! the tale is true enough. I have it from one
of them under the Signet--surely that Signet has served us
well--who believes, poor fool, that I am in the plot. Now, you
are the officers of the bodyguard who watch in the ante-chamber
to-night, are you not? Well, when the guard is changed at
midnight, the eight men who should replace them at the doors of
the room of Salah-ed-din will not arrive; they will be decoyed
away by a false order. In their stead will come eight murderers,
disguised in the robes and arms of Mameluks. They l