“What is the name of this man you think your friend has recognized?” she asked. The big stick was rapping furiously during this colloquy. “We are both sure, Senorita. His name is Major Spalding.” That Spalding and Grantham were neighbouring towns in Lincolnshire Zahara did not know, but: “No one of that name comes here,” she replied. “The one you heard and--who has gone--is not called by that name.” She spoke with forced calm. It was Grantham they sought! “But what happens if I show you this one who is not called Spalding?” “No matter! Point him out to me,” answered the Spaniard eagerly--and his dark eyes seemed to be on fire--“point him out to me and fifty pounds of English money is yours!” “Let me see.” He drew out a wallet and held up a number of notes. “Fifty,” he said, in a subdued voice, “when you point him out.” For a long moment Zahara hesitated, then: “Sixty,” she corrected him--“now! Then I will do it to-night--if you tell what happens.” Exhibiting a sort of eager impatience the man displayed a bunch of official-looking documents. “I give him these,” he explained, “and my work is done.” “H'm,” said Zahara. “He must not know that it is I who have shown him to you. To-night he will be here at nine o'clock, and I shall dance. You understand?” “Then,” said the Spaniard eagerly, “this is what you will do.” And speaking close to her ear he rapidly outlined a plan; but presently she interrupted him. “Pooh! It is Spanish, the rose. I dance the dances of Egypt.” “But to-night,” he persisted, “it will not matter.” Awhile longer they talked, the rapping of the stick upon the tiled floor growing ever faster and faster. But finally: “I will tell Hassan that you are to be admitted,” said Zahara, and she held out her hand for the notes. When, presently, the visitors departed, she learned that the smaller man was blind; for his companion led him out of the room and out of the house. She stood awhile listening to the tap, tap, tap of the heavy stick receding along the street. What she did not hear, and could not have understood had she heard, since it was uttered in Spanish, was the cry of exultant hatred which came from the lips of the taller man: “At last, Miguel! at last! Though blind, you have found him! You have not failed. I shall not fail!” ***** Zahara peeped through the carved screen at the assembled company. They were smoking and drinking and seemed to be in high good humour. Safiyeh had danced and they had applauded the performance, but had complained to M. Agapoulos that they had seen scores of such dances and dancers. Safiyeh, who had very little English, had not understood this, and because presently she was to play upon the a'ood while Zahara danced the Dance of the Veils, Zahara had avoided informing her of the verdict of the company.