Mr. Spokesly turned resolutely to the window and looked out over the dark roofs at the lustrous and spangled dome of the sky. He would have to find Cassar and give him some instructions at once. It would be impossible to get away if they waited for a swarm of workmen and officials to come down and be for ever sailing up and down the Gulf. He ought to have thought of such a contingency. He must find Cassar. And then he must get back to Evanthia and tell her they must go at once. To-morrow night. He heard the heavy stamp of feet that greeted the end of the song and joined in without thinking. As he walked across to the door Mr. Marsh followed him, and Mr. Jokanian, his dark yearning eyes brilliant with the wine he had drunk, came over making gestures of protestation as another voice rose from behind the grand piano: "_Enfant, si j'étais Roi, je donnerais l'empire, Et mon char, et mon sceptre, et mes peuples à genoux, Et mon couronne d'or, et mes bains de porphyre._" "I am coming back," said Mr. Spokesly, "but I must see if my boat is ready." "You don't need any boat," said Mr. Jokanian. "We are going back in my carriage. Mr. Lietherthal goes with us. I have invited him." "_Pour un regard de vous!_" sang the voice, and trembled into a passionate intricacy of arpeggios. "I shall not be long," he repeated. "I must tell my man I sha'n't need it, in that case." He felt he must get out of there at once, if only for a moment. This combination of wine and music was becoming too much for him. As he came out into the courtyard he heard Victor Hugo's superb challenge ring out: "_Enfant, si j'étais Dieu, je donnerais le Ciel!_" He walked quickly along in the profound shadow of the Rue Parallel until he reached the great doors of the Passage Kraemer. Here he might have seen, had he been watchful, in a corner by the disused elevator of the hotel, the young Jew talking to a girl in cap and apron. The youth saw him and clutched his companion's arm. "Madama's husband," he whispered. "The Englishman." "Well," said the girl, bending her dark brows upon the figure hurrying out upon the quay, "I think your Madama is a fool." "S-sh!" whimpered the young man. "She is the most glorious creature in the world." "And a fool," repeated the girl. "That other upstairs in Suite Fourteen will desert her in a month. I know his style. He only left the last one in Kara-hissar, so his servant told us. I know if _I_ had a chance of marrying an Englishman.... Yes! She has got you anyhow," she added, laughing. "You are like a cony in love with a snake." He put up his hand in warning, as though he feared by some occult power Madama would hear these rash and sacrilegious words. He took out a tiny piece of paper and looked at it. "I must go," he said. "You are certain it is this Frank, who has come?" he urged anxiously.