"Marcelle," he said, "I've brought a friend who is anxious to
meet you. Major Desmond Okewood! He and I soldiered together in
France!" The dancer turned her big black eyes full on Desmond as
she held out her hand to him.

"Old friends, new friends," she cried, clapping, her hands like a
child, "I love friends. Captaine, here is a very old friend," she
said to Strangwise as Mr. Mackwayte and Barbara came into the
rooms, "Monsieur Arthur Mackwayte and 'is daughter. I 'ave know
Monsieur Arthur almos' all my life. And, Mademoiselle, permit me?
I introduce le Captaine Strangwise and 'is friend... what is the
name? Ah, Major Okewood!"

Nur-el-Din sank into a bergere chair beside her great mirror.

"There are too many in this room," she cried, "there is no air!
Lazarro, Ramiro, all of you, go outside, my friends!"

As Madame's entourage surged out, Strangwise said:

"I hear you are leaving the Palaceum, Marcelle!"

He spoke so low that Mr. Mackwayte and Barbara, who were talking
to Desmond, did not hear. Marcelle, taking off her heavy
head-dress, answered quickly:

"Who told you that?"

"Never mind," replied Strangwise. "But you never told me you were