the hands of Achmet Zek; but while that austere chieftain lived,
Mohammed Beyd had not even dared hope for a realization of his
imaginings.

Now, though, it was different--only a despised dog of a Christian
stood between himself and possession of the girl. How easy it would
be to slay the unbeliever, and take unto himself both the woman and
the jewels! With the latter in his possession, the ransom which
might be obtained for the captive would form no great inducement to
her relinquishment in the face of the pleasures of sole ownership
of her. Yes, he would kill Werper, retain all the jewels and keep
the Englishwoman.

He turned his eyes upon her as she rode along at his side. How
beautiful she was! His fingers opened and closed--skinny, brown
talons itching to feel the soft flesh of the victim in their
remorseless clutch.

"Do you know," he asked leaning toward her, "where this man would
take you?"

Jane Clayton nodded affirmatively.

"And you are willing to become the plaything of a black sultan?"

The girl drew herself up to her full height, and turned her head
away; but she did not reply. She feared lest her knowledge of the
ruse that M. Frecoult was playing upon the Arab might cause her
to betray herself through an insufficient display of terror and
aversion.