She watched him, unmoved, for several moments more. Then, a slow, delightful smile revealed her little gleaming teeth. She turned her head slightly, looking up at Danbazzar. She spoke in soft, queerly modulated syllables. One word which might have been “Zalithea,” but accented very differently from Barry’s rendering, gave him a clue to her question. Danbazzar replied, slowly, haltingly; then: “I think,” he said, “she is curious about how you learned her name. She seems to have recognized it. I told her that you were a very learned priest. She wants to know what you are called. Tell her.” Zalithea turned her disturbing glance upon him again, as: “I am called Barry Cumberland,” he responded. Zalithea considered the words, then: “Bahree?” she said--and nodded interrogatively. “Yes--Barry; Barry Cumberland.” She smiled, shaking her head in bewilderment. She looked up at Danbazzar and addressed him again. He listened, interpolating hesitant questions, while Barry watched, fascinated. Presently: “She understands that you are called Barry,” he explained. “Cumberland is too much for her. Now, she is going to tell you how to pronounce _her_ name properly.” Zalithea turned to Barry, and, laying one slender hand on her breast: “Zal’ith-_eeah_,” she said distinctly, and beckoned to him to approach closer. He did so, almost trembling: the mad wonder of it all had seized upon him anew. Zalithea, in a sweetly imperious way, intimated that he should kneel. He obeyed, and she laid her hand on his breast. His heart was thumping wildly. She looked fixedly into his eyes. “Bahree,” she said, and smiled. CHAPTER XXIII. AN ENGLISH LESSON The sound of a distant shot came--from the direction of the Nile. Professor Blackwell looked up with a start. He was inclined to nervousness in these days. Breakfast was temporarily suspended. “Mr. Tawwab has called for the rent!” said Danbazzar grimly. He raised his great voice, looking over his shoulder. “Mahmoud!” he boomed. The grinning face of Mahmoud appeared in the opening of the tent. Danbazzar spoke rapidly in Arabic. Mahmoud saluted and departed. “I’ve told him,” Danbazzar explained, “to warn Safîyeh that they must keep under cover and then to go up and tell the guards, in case they missed the signal.” It was now Zalithea’s custom to take exercise, veiled like a Moslem woman, early each morning and again in the evening. In a manner reminiscent of that adopted (by request) during the historic ride of Lady Godiva, not a soul was visible about the camp on these occasions. Hassan es-Sugra, at a respectful distance, acted as escort. And he had his instructions touching prohibited areas. After a time, Zalithea had seemed to recognize where she was. At the first coming of this recognition--realizing that she was in the Valley of the Dead--she had been seized with terror. Danbazzar’s linguistic resources had been taxed to the utmost to pacify her.