"Yes, mistress," he answered unwillingly. "I your dragoman one year in
Cairo. What you want here, mistress?"

"You know that I know," she went on, "that you are a Turk and a
Mohammedan, and not an Egyptian at all."

"Yes, mistress, you know that," he muttered.

"And you also know," she continued, "that if I give you away to the
authorities you will be sent at once to a very uncomfortable internment
camp, where you won't even have an opportunity to wash more than once a
day, where you will have to herd with all sorts of people, who will
make fun of your colour and your religion--"

"Don't, mistress!" he shouted suddenly. "You will not tell. I think you
will not tell!"

He was sidling a little towards her. Again one of those curious changes
seemed to have transformed him from a dumb, passive creature into a
savage. There was menace in his eyes. She waved him back without
moving.

"I have come to make a bargain with you, Hassan," she said, "just a few
words, that is all. Not quite so near, please."

He paused. There was a moment's silence. His face was within a foot of
hers, lowering, black, bestial. Her eyes met his without a tremor. Her
full, sweet lips only curved into a faintly contemptuous line.

"You cannot frighten me, Hassan," she declared. "No man has ever done