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Within　the　village　Werper　passed　hurriedly　toward　the

silken　tent　of　Achmet　Zek。　　The　Arab　arose　as　his

lieutenant　entered。　　His　face　showed　surprise　as　he

viewed　the　tattered　apparel　of　the　Belgian。



〃What　has　happened？〃　he　asked。



Werper　narrated　all；　save　the　little　matter　of　the

pouch　of　gems　which　were　now　tightly　strapped　about　his

waist；　beneath　his　clothing。　　The　Arab's　eyes　narrowed

greedily　as　his　henchman　described　the　treasure　that

the　Waziri　had　buried　beside　the　ruins　of　the　Greystoke

bungalow。



〃It　will　be　a　simple　matter　now　to　return　and　get　it；〃

said　Achmet　Zek。　　〃First　we　will　await　the　coming　of

the　rash　Waziri；　and　after　we　have　slain　them　we　may

take　our　time　to　the　treasurenone　will　disturb　it

where　it　lies；　for　we　shall　leave　none　alive　who　knows

of　its　existence。



〃And　the　woman？〃　asked　Werper。



〃I　shall　sell　her　in　the　north；〃　replied　the　raider。

〃It　is　the　only　way；　now。　　She　should　bring　a　good

price。〃



The　Belgian　nodded。　　He　was　thinking　rapidly。　　If　he

could　persuade　Achmet　Zek　to　send　him　in　command　of　the

party　which　took　Lady　Greystoke　north　it　would　give　him

the　opportunity　he　craved　to　make　his　escape　from　his

chief。　　He　would　forego　a　share　of　the　gold；　if　he

could　but　get　away　unscathed　with　the　jewels。



He　knew　Achmet　Zek　well　enough　by　this　time　to　know

that　no　member　of　his　band　ever　was　voluntarily

released　from　the　service　of　Achmet　Zek。　　Most　of　the

few　who　deserted　were　recaptured。　　More　than　once　had

Werper　listened　to　their　agonized　screams　as　they　were

tortured　before　being　put　to　death。　　The　Belgian　had　no

wish　to　take　the　slightest　chance　of　recapture。



〃Who　will　go　north　with　the　woman；〃　he　asked；　〃while　we

are　returning　for　the　gold　that　the　Waziri　buried　by

the　bungalow　of　the　Englishman？〃



Achmet　Zek　thought　for　a　moment。　　The　buried　gold　was

of　much　greater　value　than　the　price　the　woman　would

bring。　　It　was　necessary　to　rid　himself　of　her　as

quickly　as　possible　and　it　was　also　well　to　obtain　the

gold　with　the　least　possible　delay。　　Of　all　his

followers；　the　Belgian　was　the　most　logical　lieutenant

to　intrust　with　the　command　of　one　of　the　parties。　　An

Arab；　as　familiar　with　the　trails　and　tribes　as　Achmet

Zek　himself；　might　collect　the　woman's　price　and　make

good　his　escape　into　the　far　north。　　Werper；　on　the

other　hand；　could　scarce　make　his　escape　alone　through

a　country　hostile　to　Europeans　while　the　men　he　would

send　with　the　Belgian　could　be　carefully　selected　with

a　view　to　preventing　Werper　from　persuading　any

considerable　portion　of　his　command　to　accompany　him

should　he　contemplate　desertion　of　his　chief。



At　last　the　Arab　spoke：　〃It　is　not　necessary　that　we

both　return　for　the　gold。　　You　shall　go　north　with　the

woman；　carrying　a　letter　to　a　friend　of　mine　who　is

always　in　touch　with　the　best　markets　for　such

merchandise；　while　I　return　for　the　gold。　　We　can　meet

again　here　when　our　business　is　concluded。〃



Werper　could　scarce　disguise　the　joy　with　which　he

received　this　welcome　decision。　　And　that　he　did

entirely　disguise　it　from　the　keen　and　suspicious　eyes

of　Achmet　Zek　is　open　to　question。　　However；　the

decision　reached；　the　Arab　and　his　lieutenant　discussed

the　details　of　their　forthcoming　ventures　for　a　short

time　further；　when　Werper　made　his　excuses　and　returned

to　his　own　tent　for　the　comforts　and　luxury　of　a

long…desired　bath　and　shave。



Having　bathed；　the　Belgian　tied　a　small　hand　mirror　to

a　cord　sewn　to　the　rear　wall　of　his　tent；　placed　a　rude

chair　beside　an　equally　rude　table　that　stood　beside

the　glass；　and　proceeded　to　remove　the　rough　stubble

from　his　face。



In　the　catalog　of　masculine　pleasures　there　is　scarce

one　which　imparts　a　feeling　of　greater　comfort　and

refreshment　than　follows　a　clean　shave；　and　now；　with

weariness　temporarily　banished；　Albert　Werper　sprawled

in　his　rickety　chair　to　enjoy　a　final　cigaret　before

retiring。　　His　thumbs；　tucked　in　his　belt　in　lazy

support　of　the　weight　of　his　arms；　touched　the　belt

which　held　the　jewel　pouch　about　his　waist。　　He　tingled

with　excitement　as　he　let　his　mind　dwell　upon　the　value

of　the　treasure；　which；　unknown　to　all　save　himself；

lay　hidden　beneath　his　clothing。



What　would　Achmet　Zek　say；　if　he　knew？　　Werper　grinned。

How　the　old　rascal's　eyes　would　pop　could　he　but　have　a

glimpse　of　those　scintillating　beauties！　　Werper　had

never　yet　had　an　opportunity　to　feast　his　eyes　for　any

great　length　of　time　upon　them。　　He　had　not　even

counted　themonly　roughly　had　he　guessed　at　their

value。



He　unfastened　the　belt　and　drew　the　pouch　from　its

hiding　place。　　He　was　alone。　　The　balance　of　the　camp；

save　the　sentries；　had　retirednone　would　enter　the

Belgian's　tent。　　He　fingered　the　pouch；　feeling　out　the

shapes　and　sizes　of　the　precious；　little　nodules

within。　　He　hefted　the　bag；　first　in　one　palm；　then　in

the　other；　and　at　last　he　wheeled　his　chair　slowly

around　before　the　table；　and　in　the　rays　of　his　small

lamp　let　the　glittering　gems　roll　out　upon　the　rough

wood。



The　refulgent　rays　transformed　the　interior　of　the

soiled　and　squalid　canvas　to　the　splendor　of　a　palace

in　the　eyes　of　the　dreaming　man。　　He　saw　the　gilded

halls　of　pleasure　that　would　open　their　portals　to　the

possessor　of　the　wealth　which　lay　scattered　upon　this

stained　and　dented　table　top。　　He　dreamed　of　joys　and

luxuries　and　power　which　always　had　been　beyond　his

grasp；　and　as　he　dreamed　his　gaze　lifted　from　the

table；　as　the　gaze　of　a　dreamer　will；　to　a　far　distant

goal　above　the　mean　horizon　of　terrestrial

commonplaceness。



Unseeing；　his　eyes　rested　upon　the　shaving　mirror　which

still　hung　upon　the　tent　wall　above　the　table；　but　his

sight　was　focused　far　beyond。　　And　then　a　reflection

moved　within　the　polished　surface　of　the　tiny　glass；

the　man's　eyes　shot　back　out　of　space　to　the　mirror's

face；　and　in　it　he　saw　reflected　the　grim　visage　of

Achmet　Zek；　framed　in　the　flaps　of　the　tent　doorway

behind　him。



Werper　stifled　a　gasp　of　dismay。　　With　rare

self…possession　he　let　his　gaze　drop；　without　appearing

to　have　halted　upon　the　mirror　until　it　rested　again　upon

the　gems。　　Without　haste；　he　replaced　them　in　the

pouch；　tucked　the　latter　into　his　shirt；　selected　a

cigaret　from　his　case；　lighted　it　and　rose。　　Yawning；

and　stretching　his　arms　above　his　head；　he　turned

slowly　toward　the　opposite　end　of　the　tent。　　The　face

of　Achmet　Zek　had　disappeared　from　the　opening。



To　say　that　Albert　Werper　was　terrified　would　be

putting　it　mildly。　　He　realized　that　he　not　only　had

sacrificed　his　treasure；　but　his　life　as　well。

Achmet　Zek　would　never　permit　the　wealth　that　he　had

discovered　to　slip　through　his　fingers；　nor　would　he

forgive　the　duplicity　of　a　lieutenant　who　had　gained

possession　of　such　a　treasure　without　offering　to　share

it　with　his　chief。



Slowly　the　Belgian　prepared　for　bed。　　If　he　were　being

watched；　he　could　not　know；　but　if　so　the　watcher　saw

no　indication　of　the　nervous　excitement　which　the

European　strove　to　conceal。　　When　ready　for　his

blankets；　the　man　crossed　to　the　little　table　and

extinguished　the　light。



It　was　two　hours　later　that　the　flaps　at　the　front　of

the　tent　separated　silently　and　gave　entrance　to　a

dark…robed　figure；　which　passed　noiselessly　from　the

darkness　without　to　the　darkness　within。　　Cautiously

the　prowler　crossed　the　interior。　　In　one　hand　was　a

long　knife。　　He　came　at　last　to　the　pile　of　blankets

spread　upon　several　rugs　close　to　one　of　the　tent

walls。



Lightly；　his　fingers　sought　and　found　the　bulk　beneath

the　blanketsthe　bulk　that　should　be　Albert　Werper。

They　traced　out　the　figure　of　a　man；　and　then　an　arm

shot　upward；　poised　for　an　instant　and　descended。

Again　and　again　it　rose　and　fell；　and　each　time　the

long　blade　of　the　knife　buried　itself　in　the　thing

beneath　the　blankets。　　But　there　was　an　initial

lifelessness　in　the　silent　bulk　that　gave　the　assassin

momentary　wonder。　　Feverishly　he　threw　back　the

coverlets；　and　searched　with　nervous　hands　for　the

pouch　of　jewels　which　he　expected　to　find　concealed

upon　his　victim's　body。



An　instant　later　he　rose　with　a　curse　upon　his　lips。

It　was　Achmet　Zek；　and　he　cursed　because　he　had

discovered　beneath　the　blankets　of　his　lieutenant　only

a　pile　of　discarded　clothing　arranged　in　the　form　and

semblance　of　a　sleeping　manAlbert　Werper　had　fled。



Out　into　the　village　ran　the　chief；　calling　in　angry

tones　to　the　sleepy　Arabs；　who　tumbled　from　their　tents

in　answer　to　his　voice。　　But　though　they　searched　the

village　again　and　again　they　found　no　trace　of　the

Belgian。　　Foaming　with　anger；　Achmet　Zek　called　his

followers　to　horse；　and　though　the　night　was　pitchy

black　they　set　out　to　scour　the　adjoining　forest　for

their　quarry。



As　they　galloped　from　the　open　gates；　Mugambi；　hiding