CHAPTER XII

THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON


"It seems too good to be true that it should end like this," said
Monny.

She said it on the roof of Mena House, in the kiosk-room made of
mushrbiyeh work, which I had engaged for a little private dinner-party
that night. You see, it was the night of the full moon, the magic night
of the Sphinx-spell, which must not be wasted, no matter how tired you
may be or how many excitements you may have lived through.

Anthony and I had had our explanations. He had told me that one night
in a cafe, where he was spreading the news of his dream, he had heard
two men talking in low voices about the House of the Crocodile. The
word "hasheesh" had not been mentioned, but Anthony had imbibed a vague
impression of something secret, and had wondered, and been interested.
Then the matter had slipped his mind; but, summoned in the night from
the writing of letters, to advise Mrs. Jones, he had recalled Monny's
wish to visit a hasheesh den. He knew of none, but suspected the
existence of one or two. How to find out in a hurry? he had asked
himself. And with that, the remembrance of those few whispered words in
the cafe had come echoing back to his brain. He acted upon the
suggestion; went to the door of the swinging crocodile, knocked, and