"You will be kind to me, will you not?" she asked. I suppose a lengthy essay upon the mentality of Oriental womanhood would serve no purpose here, therefore I refrain from inserting it. Seated upon the chests in the room below, Mizmûna--for this was her name--confided her troubles with perturbing frankness. She had conceived a characteristically Eastern and sudden infatuation for my society; nor am I prepared to maintain that she would have remained obdurate to anyone else who had been in a position to unbolt the door which offered the only chance of escape from her prison. The house of mystery, she informed me, belonged to a person styling himself Yûssuf of Rosetta (a name that sounded factitious) and she hated him. For two months, I gathered, she had been in Cairo, during which time she had never passed beyond the walls of the neighboring courtyard. And the object of her nocturnal adventure was innocent enough; she wanted to see the European shops and the tourists passing in and out of the big hotels in the Shâria Kâmel Pasha! III It was as we passed along the Shâria el-Maghribi, where I had pointed out the St. James's Restaurant, better known as "Jimmy's," I remember, that Mizmûna uttered a little, suppressed cry, and clutched my arm sharply. "Oh!" she whispered fearfully, "it is Hanna! and he has seen me!" With frightened, fascinated eyes she was staring across the street, apparently at a group of curiously muffled natives--and her whole body was trembling. "Quick!" she said, pulling me urgently, "take me back! if they find me they will kill me!" "But if they have already seen you----" "Oh! take me back," she entreated piteously. "Hanna must not find out where I live." Here was mystery; but evidently my first dreadful theory that Hanna was Mizmûna's husband had been incorrect. Apparently he was not even acquainted with Yûssuf of Rosetta. But whoever or whatever he might be, I silently cursed the lapis armlet which had led me to involve myself in his affairs, as I hurried my companion across the Place de l'Opera and homeward.... We were come indeed unmolested but breathless, as near our destination as that nameless street beside the Mosque of Muayyâd, when Mizmûna suddenly stopped, uttered a stifled shriek, and-- "Oh, save me!" she panted, winding her arms about my neck. "Look! Look! in the shadow of the mosque door!" Panic threatened me for one fleeting moment; for this part of Cairo is utterly deserted at night and the mystery of the thing was taking toll of my nerves; then firmly unclasping the trembling arms, I pushed Mizmûna behind me and snatched out my Colt automatic ... as a group of muffled figures became magically detached from the shadows that had hidden them; and began silently to advance. I raised the pistol. "_Usbur!_" I cried "_âuz eh?_" (Stop! what do you want?) They halted at once; but no answering voice broke the uncanny silence in which they regarded me. Mizmûna plucked at my arm.