A certain trouble had now grown manifest in Rrisa's eyes. His lips
moved silently, as if still praying; but no words were audible. The
Master pondered a moment more, then demanded:

"Is it true there is a sacred Black Stone in the walls of the Ka'aba,
precious to all followers of the Prophet, from Africa to China and to
the farthest isles? Revered by all the two hundred and thirty million
of your faith?"

"That is true, _M'almé_. I myself have touched and kissed the Black
Stone."

"Mecca, the Ka'aba, and the Black Stone are forbidden to all
heretics?" relentlessly pursued the Master.

"_Wallah_! Yea, so they are to--all who are not of Islam," Rrisa tried
to soften the answer.

"They tell me," persisted the Master, "the Black Stone is in the
western wall of the Ka'aba, about seven feet from the pavement."

"That is a lie!" flared Rrisa, with indignation. "It is in the
northeast corner, at the very corner, Master. It is between four
feet and five from the ground. That, and no other, is the true place,
Master, the place of _Hajar el Aswad!_" (Black Stone.)

"Ah, yes, yes, the books lie," agreed the Master. "And they say, too,
that certain of the Feringi have indeed touched and even kissed the
Black Stone, and still lived."