He came out crestfallen after a stay of an hour and a quarter, but had his drooping spirits raised by running against Dicky Wood as he turned into Portland Place. “Hallo, where are you going to?” “Hallo, where are you coming from?” said they at the same moment. They both had grown red, and presently began to laugh as the truth came out. Scheherazade, whatever names you might call her, had a captivating presence which absolutely demanded to be seen again. The ardour of those two young men for Indian art-products grew hotter and hotter as the week wore on, and their alternate pilgrimages to Mary Street resulted in nothing but the accumulation of a vast hoard of lacquered and engraved articles which not even the most indiscriminate present-giving could keep within due bounds. The senior partner in the firm, a small gentleman, leather-coloured and lean, with a grey beard and a white turban, had indeed turned up and induced suggestions that the mysterious lady might be his daughter, and glimpses had been caught of a lean, withered, white-robed ayah, who could by no means be mistaken for the interesting fair one; but it was not until the ninth day after their first visit that Massey was able, with great excitement, to announce that, on paying a late evening visit to Mary Street, he had seen the mysterious fair one disappearing helter-skelter up the staircase, and heard her close sharply, not to say bang, a door on the first floor. “She had bare feet in loose sandals--feet you would have given ten years of your life to be walked upon by,” continued Massey rapidly, “with anklets that jingled as she went up. Old brown Windsor hustled her off as I came in--I’m afraid he must be her husband; and yet--I don’t know. Wonder if one could get lodgings in that house; it’s let out in floors, I know.” “Not to us; they’d know what we were up to,” said Dicky gloomily. “I believe both of those beggars suspect us already. They’re only waiting for us to have spent our last half-crown on narghilis that we can’t smoke and cotton-wool beetles, and then they’ll politely bow us out and snigger to themselves over our greenness. We’ve been making fools of ourselves, Massey; I shouldn’t wonder if she was a decoy, a made-up old thing, very likely, the mother of old brown Windsor, henna’d and dyed and veiled till she looked beautiful at a distance, but a regular mummy at less than twelve paces.” “What, would ye slander beauty herself? Is nothing sacred to you? Look here, I’ve got an idea. You know how jolly quick Mr. George Lauriston shuts us both up if we venture to have an opinion of our own about anything--female beauty for instance?” “He has been putting on a little too much side lately, certainly.” “I tell you that young man wants taking down. You know how he sneered the other night at mess when we said we’d discovered a new beauty?” “Yes, he did. Well?” “Well, we’ll make him see her and judge for himself and satisfy our curiosity at the same time.”