"To-morrow morning at six," he said, briefly; "close to the
Sphinx."

"Good!" responded Gervase. "The Sphinx shall second us both and
see fair play. Good-night, Denzil!"

"Good-night!" responded Denzil, coldly, as he moved on and
disappeared.

A slight shiver ran through Gervase's blood as he watched him
depart.

"Odd that I should imagine I have seen the last of him!" he
murmured. "There are strange portents in the air of the desert, I
suppose! Is he going to his death? Or am I going to mine?"

Again the cold tremor shook him, and combating with his uneasy
sensations, he went to his own apartment, there to await the
expected summons of the Princess. No triumph filled him now; no
sense of joy elated him; a vague fear and dull foreboding were all
the emotions he was conscious of. Even his impatient desire of
love had cooled, and he watched the darkening of night over the
desert, and the stars shining out one by one in the black azure of
the heavens, with a gradually deepening depression. A dreamy sense
stole over him of remoteness or detachment from all visible
things, as though he were suddenly and mysteriously separated from
the rest of humankind by an invisible force which he was powerless
to resist. He was still lost in this vague half-torpor or semi-
conscious reverie, when a light tap startled him back to the
realization of earth and his earthly surroundings. In response to