"Per-fect-ly wonderful," gasped a rotund Ouled Nail to a masked dancer
of the same sex and size. "He told me about that terrible time when I
lost so much at bridge--you remember, dear, when I had to--er--to raise
money on my diamonds. How could he have seen it in my hand?"

He hadn't; he had been a guest at Hurdley Castle with her.

"What's he like?"

"Oh, I couldn't see his face, on account of the handkerchief thing, but
I think he's quite common; his clothes are quite poor. I believe he is
one of the waiters dressed up. I seem to recognise his voice. Have
you long to wait?"

"I'm twenty-fifth down the list. Who's in now?"

"Some woman in black. There are four of them, and I can't tell t'other
from which."

The hand of the woman who was twenty-fifth down the list was never told.

Damaris lifted the curtain, and walked into the corner of the Winter
Garden, which had been temporarily given the appearance of an Arab's
tent.

"_Salaam aley_," she said gently, giving the word of peace.

The fortune-teller salaamed with hands to forehead, mouth and heart, in
the beautiful Eastern gesture.