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Updated: June 20, 2025
They recalled the glory of Israel, and a Syrian spoke of all the great conquerors they had vanquished, Antigone, Crassus, Varus. "Miserable creatures!" cried the enraged proconsul, who had overheard the Syrian's words.
Those words had told her that Pollux was a doomed man; that apostasy on her part could not have saved his life; that had he not fallen by the Syrian's dagger, he would have been but reserved for the headsman's axe. And had Pollux perished thus, there would have been none of that gleam of hope which, at least in Zarah's eyes, now rested upon his grave.
I took advantage of the Syrian's absence to open Grim's valise, remove the bottle of doped whisky and set it on the table close to the window beside the two bottles that I had bought downstairs one of which, for the sake of appearances, I opened just as Yussuf Dakmar entered, smiling to conceal anxiety. "You made a bad break that time" Grim was in Mephistophelian humor.
"I will be silent; you have only to provide for the Syrian's safety. You have given me your word." "And so long as you keep yours I will keep mine. Or else. . ." the words would come from his quivering lips "or else war to the knife!" "War to the knife!" she echoed with flashing eyes. "But one thing more. I have proof that the emerald which Hiram sold belonged to me. By all the saints proof!"
In the flash of an eye, as you might say, we had thus fifty extra infantry, ten of them neither uniformed nor armed as yet, but all of them at least afraid to run away. Tugendheim looked doubtful for a minute, but he was given his choice of that, or death, or of wearing a Syrian's cast-off clothes and driving mules.
Many were the confidential missions which Sagaris had discharged; yet, looking now into his man's face, the master was troubled by a sudden misgiving. The state of his own mind disposed him to see peril everywhere. At another time he would not have noted so curiously a sort of gleam in the Syrian's eye, a something on the fellow's cunning, sensual lips, which might mean anything or nothing.
The Syrian's body-servant attended his master, and while the former was talking with Charmian the latter turned to the supposed Nubian, tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and whispered: "Come this evening, as you did yesterday. You haven't finished the story of Prince Setnau." The fugitive felt as if she had grown dumb and could never more regain the power of speech.
The Syrian's first feeling was that of despair, as he stood gazing in the direction of the caravan which he could no longer see. Then Yusef lifted up his eyes to the sky above him: in its now darkened expanse shone the calm evening star, like a drop of pure light.
"I will be silent; you have only to provide for the Syrian's safety. You have given me your word." "And so long as you keep yours I will keep mine. Or else..." the words would come from his quivering lips "or else war to the knife!" "War to the knife!" she echoed with flashing eyes. "But one thing more. I have proof that the emerald which Hiram sold belonged to me. By all the saints proof!"
The Syrian's body-servant attended his master, and while the former was talking with Charmian the latter turned to the supposed Nubian, tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and whispered: "Come this evening, as you did yesterday. You haven't finished the story of Prince Setnau." The fugitive felt as if she had grown dumb and could never more regain the power of speech.
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