drawn up and down above and below the teeth in a kind of fixed
grin, while the dense brilliance of his eyes was so fierce and
fiery as to suggest those of some savage beast athirst for prey.

"Madame la Princesse Ziska" began Gervase, addressing his
unfascinating object with apparent indifference to his
hideousness.

The Nubian's grinning lips stretched themselves wider apart as, in
a thick, snarling voice he demanded:

"Votre nom?"

"Armand Gervase."

"Entrez!"

"Et moi?" queried Fulkeward, with a conciliatory smile.

"Non! Pas vous. Monsieur Armand Gervase, seul!"

Fulkeward gave a resigned shrug of his shoulders; Gervase looked
round at him ere he crossed the threshold of the mysterious
habitation.

"I'm sorry you have to walk back alone."

"Don't mention it," said Fulkeward affably. "You see, you have
come on business. You're going to paint the Princess's picture;
and I daresay this blessed old rascal knows that I want nothing