Abû Tabâh gravely accepted the invitation. "This is the second occasion," I continued, "upon which you have unwarrantably submitted me to a peculiar form of outrage----" "Not unwarrantably," replied Abû Tabâh, his speech suave and gentle; "but I fear I am too late!" His words came as a beam of enlightenment. At last I had the game in my hands did I but play my cards with moderate cunning. "You must pursue your inquiries in the _harêm_ of the Bey," I said. Abû Tabâh shrugged his shoulders. "The house of Yûssuf Bey has been watched," he replied; "therefore my agents have failed me and must be punished." "They are guiltless. It was humanly impossible to perceive my entrance to the house," I declared truthfully. Abû Tabâh smiled into my face. "So it was _you_ who carried the sacred _burko_ of the Seyyîdeh Nefîseh," he said; "and to-night Ali Mohammed brought you the reward for your perilous journey." "Your reasoning is sound," I replied, "and the accuracy of your information remarkable." I had scored the first point in the game; for I had learned that the wonderful silken _yashmak_, pearl embroidered, which I had found in the sandalwood box, was no less a curiosity than the face-veil of the Seyyîdeh Nefîseh and must therefore be of truly astounding antiquity and unique of its kind. "The woman Sháhmarâh," continued my midnight visitor, the eerie light of fanaticism dawning in his eyes, "who was once a dancing girl, and who will ruin Yûssuf Bey as she ruined Ghûri Pasha before him, must be for ever accursed and meet with the fate of courtesans if she dare to wear the _burko_ of Nefîseh." I had scored my second point; I had learned that the lady to whom Ali Mohammed would have had me deliver the _yashmak_ was named Sháhmarâh and was evidently the favorite of the notorious Yûssuf Bey. The complacent self-satisfaction of Abû Tabâh amused me vastly, for he clearly entertained no doubts respecting his efficiency as a searcher. He was watching me now with his strange hypnotic eyes, which had softened again, and his fixed stare caused me a certain uneasiness. For a captured thief, sitting covered by the pistol of his captor, he was ridiculously composed. "You have performed an immoral deed," he said sweetly, "and have pandered to the base desires of a woman of poor repute. I offer you an opportunity of performing a good deed--and of trebling your profit." This was as I would have it, and I nodded encouragingly. "Unfold to me the thing that is in your mind," I directed him. "I am a Moslem," he said; "and although Yûssuf Bey is a dog of dogs, he is nevertheless a True Believer--and I may not force my way into his _harêm_." "He might return the veil if he knew that Sháhmarâh had it," I suggested ingenuously. Abû Tabâh shook his head.