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