Zalithea was wearing a frock which had been bought for her in Paris. She wore it exquisitely. It was a semi-Oriental creation, simple enough; but it set off her dark, lithe beauty to perfection. She rested one slender hand on the chair back for a moment, smiling inscrutably at John Cumberland. Then she crossed to the Bubastite throne and seated herself. “Yes?” she asked naïvely, her head tilted aside. And John Cumberland knew that it would be quite useless to say No, therefore: “Yes, Zalithea,” he agreed, “if you’re comfortable.” She listened in her intent fashion, then: “Zal’ith-_eeah_ you-ah-addorahble!” she corrected. John Cumberland sat down. Apparently Zalithea thought that this was the name by which she was known nowadays. He strongly suspected the identity of the tutor who had led her into this error. “Barry!” he muttered, reaching for the cigar box. “Bahree-I-love-you,” Zalithea corrected again. “Geeve-me-er-kiss.” “You’re learning the wrong things too quickly, young lady!” said John Cumberland. “Do you know where you are, yet?” “Ah-addorahble!” “I mean where you live. I tried to teach you yesterday. Your home?” Zalithea wrinkled her smooth forehead. “Darling,” she replied. “I know you’re a darling,” John Cumberland admitted; “but I think I shall have to take your education in hand myself. I’m afraid I have been neglecting you.” Zalithea, from the throne of the Bubastite king, smiled regally. A considerable disturbance in the lobby now proclaimed the return of the theatre party. Barry opened the library door, and: “Hullo!” he cried. “You’re in there! I’ve been hunting all over for you. Here’s the gang.” Headed by the Countess Colonna, the party entered. Jack Lorrimer was frankly nervous--an unusual condition--but highly curious. She had not yet met the mysterious Cumberland guest. Jim followed in with Danbazzar, an imposing figure distinguished from the rest alike by his great height and by the slight eccentricity of dress which he affected. His Egyptian tan suited his oddly Moorish type. “Zalithea,” said John Cumberland, beckoning to Jack, “I want you to know Jack Lorrimer, my niece, and”--he drew Jim forward--“Mr. Sakers. Princess Zalithea has very little English, so excuse her.” Zalithea, beyond a slight smile, offered no sort of acknowledgment. Barry, covertly watching his friend and his cousin, noted that the girl’s queer aloofness had created its usual effect. He noted something else. Jack Lorrimer was very pretty (what Jim termed “A 1 at Cupid’s”), and Barry, like many another, had often wondered where the dividing line lay between prettiness and beauty. To-night he knew that Zalithea was beautiful. Jim’s reaction to the lovely, cold vision on the throne was good to study. “Delighted!” he said. “Been counting the hours until---- No, of course, you don’t know what I’m talking about!… Cooler this evening, I fancy.… Wrong again! How’s Egypt looking these days?… Let me out, somebody!…”