hospitality, Feerda."

"Won't you talk to us for a little time?" Lenora begged, leaning forward.

The girl made no responsive movement. She seemed, if anything, to shrink a
little away. Her head was thrown back, her dark eyes were filled with
dislike. She turned suddenly to the Professor and spoke to him in her own
language. She pointed to the signs upon the tent, drew her finger along
one of the sentences, flashed a fierce glance at them all and disappeared.

"Seems to me we are not exactly popular with the young lady," Quest
remarked. "What was she saying, Professor?"

"She suspects us," the Professor said slowly, "of wishing to bring evil to
Craig. She pointed to a sentence upon the tent. Roughly it means
'Gratitude is the debt of hospitality.' I am very much afraid that the
young lady must have been listening to our conversation a while ago."

Lenora shivered.

"To think of any girl," she murmured, "caring for a fiend like Craig!"

Before they knew it she was there again, her eyes on fire, her tone
shaking.

"You call him evil, he who saved your lives, who saved you from the swords
of my soldiers!" she cried. "I wish that you had all died before you came
here. I hope that you yet may die!"

She passed away into the night. The Professor looked anxiously after her.