Unseeing, his eyes rested upon the shaving mirror which still hung
upon the tent wall above the table; but his sight was focused far
beyond. And then a reflection moved within the polished surface
of the tiny glass, the man's eyes shot back out of space to the
mirror's face, and in it he saw reflected the grim visage of Achmet
Zek, framed in the flaps of the tent doorway behind him.

Werper stifled a gasp of dismay. With rare self-possession he let
his gaze drop, without appearing to have halted upon the mirror
until it rested again upon the gems. Without haste, he replaced
them in the pouch, tucked the latter into his shirt, selected a
cigaret from his case, lighted it and rose. Yawning, and stretching
his arms above his head, he turned slowly toward the opposite end of
the tent. The face of Achmet Zek had disappeared from the opening.

To say that Albert Werper was terrified would be putting it mildly.
He realized that he not only had sacrificed his treasure; but his
life as well. Achmet Zek would never permit the wealth that he
had discovered to slip through his fingers, nor would he forgive
the duplicity of a lieutenant who had gained possession of such a
treasure without offering to share it with his chief.

Slowly the Belgian prepared for bed. If he were being watched,
he could not know; but if so the watcher saw no indication of the
nervous excitement which the European strove to conceal. When
ready for his blankets, the man crossed to the little table and
extinguished the light.

It was two hours later that the flaps at the front of the tent