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Updated: June 25, 2025
She tried to remember that within twenty miles of her were policemen and taxis and lights and all the attributes of our present day civilization; but her thoughts always returned, with increasing horror, to that undersized yellow-faced man in the room above, to the face of Nur-el-Din, dark and distorted with passion. A light shining down the cellar stairs drew her attention to the entrance.
"And Madame Nur-el-Din?" queried Desmond innocently, but inwardly quaking at his rashness. Mortimer genially shook a finger at him. "Sly dog!" he chuckled, "you're one too many for me in that quarter, I see! I know all about your tete-a-tete with our charming young friend this afternoon!" Desmond felt the blood rush to his face. He thought of Nur-el-Din's words: "Mortimer sees and knows all."
"Just a small silver box, oblong and quite plain, about so big," she indicated the size with her hands, "about as large as a cigarette-box. Nur-el-Din said it was a treasured family possession of hers, and she was afraid of losing it as she traveled about so much. She asked me to say nothing about it and to keep it until the war was over or until she asked me for it."
"This girl was the last person to have the jewel before Strangwise," Bellward said, continuing his conversation with Mrs. Malplaquet, "and she is employed at the Headquarters of the Secret Service. Strangwise was satisfied that nobody connected him with the theft of the silver box which Nur-el-Din gave to this girl until our young lady here appeared at the Dyke Inn yesterday afternoon.
He wanted to make sure that Nur-el-Din had not recovered the jewel from him, though he declares that it has never left him day or night since he got possession of it. He fairly made hay of her room back at the inn there." "Well," said Mrs. Malplaquet rather spitefully, "he seems to be beaten this time. He hasn't found his precious Star of Poland."
That there was a German Secret service organization spying on the movements of troops to France, that this man, Basil Bellward, who had been arrested, was one of the gang and that the dancer, Nur-el-Din, was in some way implicated in the affair! And that was the extent of his confidence!
Nur-el-Din played his game for him by detaining the girl. Strangwise believes and I must say I agree with him that probably two persons know where the Star of Poland is. One is this girl..." "The other being the late Mr. Bellward?" queried Mrs. Malplaquet. "Precisely. The late Mr. Bellward or Major Desmond Okewood!" said Bellward.
"Good Lord' man' where have you been living?" replied Fletcher. "Nur-el-Din is the greatest vaudeville proposition since Lottie Collins. Conjurer! That's what she is, too, by Jove! She's the newest thing in Oriental dancers... Spaniard or something... wonderful clothes, what there is of 'em... and jewelry... wait till you see her!" "Dear me" said Mr.
There were lines round heir eyes, and her mouth had a hard, drawn look. "Child," she said, "give me, please, my peignoir... it is behind the door,... and, I will get this paint off my face!" Barbara fetched the wrapper and sat down beside the dancer. But Nur-el-Din did not move. She seemed to be thinking.
Then old Martha brought tea, and over the cups and saucers Crook gave Desmond a budget of news. He told of the warrant issued for the arrest of Nur-el-Din and of the search being made for her. Desmond heard the news of Nur-el-Din's disappearance from London with some consternation. He began to realize that his failure to detain Nur-el-Din that afternoon might have incalculable consequences.
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