Lady Saffren Waldon sat facing us, rather triumphant, in no apparent
trouble, not alone. There were four very well-dressed Arabs standing
to one side. She sat in a basket chair by a door that pretty obviously
led into her bedroom; and kept one foot on a pillow, although I
suspected there was not much the matter with it.

"We heard screams. Thought you were being murdered!" said Yerkes, out
of breath.

"Oh, indeed, no! Nothing of the kind! I fell and twisted my
ankle--very painful, but not serious. Since you are here, sit down,
won't you?"

"No, thanks," said he, turning to go.

"The maid locked the door on us!" said I, and before the words were out
of my mouth three of the Arabs slipped into the outer room. There was
no hint or display of weapons of any kind, but they were big men, and
the folds of their garments were sufficiently voluminous to have hidden
a dozen guns apiece.

"She'll open it!" said Will, with inflection that a fool could
understand.

"One minute, please!" said Lady Saffren Waldon. (It was no poor
imitation of Queen Elizabeth ordering courtiers about.)

"We didn't come to talk," said Will. "Heard screams. Made a mistake.
Sorry. We're off!"