greened with blotches of erosion.

And above the green image of Buddha, before which the Princess Meng Da
Tlang was now kneeling and moaning in a faint voice, reposed a very
realistic skull and cross-bones. Across the forehead of this hideous
reminder of the hereafter was a deep green notch, attesting in all
probability to the cause of the luckless owner's death.

"Please be seated--there," Romola requested.

Her graceful, ivory-white arm indicated with a queenly gesture a
heavily carved ebony bench, and her guests filed expectantly to this
seat.

Peggy, with a long sigh, dragged Peter into the corner. "I'm almost
scared. Oh, oh, isn't this simply romantic!" she whispered.

Helen and Anthony gravely occupied the space on the other side of them.
The Princess Meng Da Tlang was moving gracefully toward the doorway
through which they had entered.

"I--I'm really a little afraid!" whispered Peggy, with her lips so
close to Peter's ear that he could feel her warm breath against his
neck. "Put your arms around me--please!" Peter slipped his arm behind
her and around her. He squeezed her. "Oh," sighed Peggy, "this is
grand!"

Helen gave her a sidelong look of surprise. "Peggy, I think you're
hardly discreet."

"Let me die while I'm happy!" grinned Peggy. She turned a wistful face
to Peter. "Did you ever put your arm around another woman before?" she
whispered.

"Heaven forbid!" groaned Peter. "Don't I act like an amateur?"

"No; you don't!"

Romola was holding back the curtains while a troop of four men, muddy
and wet, as if from long travel, moved silently into the large room.

"Mongolian smugglers," Peter whispered.

The four large men crossed the room with dignified tread, depositing
four small bundles wrapped in blue silk at the altar of Buddha. Then
they removed straw-matting rainproofs which dangled from their broad
shoulders to their muddy sandals. They were garbed in black silk and
fastened at the belt of each was a kris, curved and flashing where the
golden candle light skimmed along the whetted steel.

After depositing their slight burdens they bowed low before the altar,
muttered deep in their throats, arose and salaamed gravely, until the
four pigtails flapped on the heavy blue rug at Romola's bare feet. She
wore no sandals, which was probably the custom among pirate princesses.
When the men were gone, Romola drew back a rug which hung close to the
altar, revealing a small cupboard fl