the bulging dome, and Ferrers, following, found that rude steps had been devised in the mouldering brickwork, so that it was possible to mount to the top. Once there, a sudden rush of oil-fumes and mingled odours reached him, and he would have coughed but for the Mirza’s imperative whisper ordering silence. Following his guide’s example, he lay down on the slope of the dome, supporting himself by gripping with his fingers the edge of the brickwork, over which he looked. He had noticed that although from the ground the top of the dome appeared roughly spherical, it was in reality flattened, and now he found that this flat effect was caused by the absence of the concluding courses of brickwork, which would answer to a key-stone, so that a round hole was left for the admission of light and air. They could thus look right down into the building, upon the actual tomb, marked by an oblong slab of rough stone, immediately below them, and upon the men whom they had seen entering, now seated on the floor in reverential, expectant silence. The place was lighted by a number of smoking oil-lamps, which revealed the rude arabesques in blue and crimson decorating the walls, and brought out a gleam of shining turquoise and white higher up, where were the remains of a frieze of glazed tiles, and which were also accountable for the fumes which obliged Ferrers to turn his head away every now and then for a breath of fresh air. After one of these interruptions, he became aware that a service of some kind had begun. A voice was droning out what sounded like a liturgy, and the congregation were kneeling with their foreheads to the floor, and performing the proper genuflexions at suitable intervals. Presently the Mirza grasped his arm again, and directed his attention to the officiating reader. Ferrers could only discern him dimly, and saw him, moreover, from behind; but presently it began to dawn upon him that the figure was in some way familiar. The man was very tall, and, for an Oriental, of an extraordinarily powerful build. His flowing robes were of purest white, but his girdle was scarlet; and round a pointed cap of bright steel, in shape like the fighting headgear of the Khemistan Horse, he wore a scarlet turban. After a time he had occasion to turn round, and Ferrers, with a thrill for which he could not at first account, saw his face. Again there was that impression of familiarity. The thick black hair, the bushy beard, the strongly marked features, the keen eyes--Ferrers knew them all; and when he realised what this meant, he was only prevented by the Mirza’s arm from slipping off the dome. To find Major Keeling reading Arabic prayers in a Mohammedan place of worship was a shock for which nothing he had hitherto seen had prepared him.