“Yes, if he persists in his denials that he has not that which I seek,” said Ajeeb. “Were I to kill him at once, I should never, perhaps, recover the Eye of Jobu.” “What do you care for the stone outside its intrinsic value?” The high priest looked at his visitor in amazement. “How can you talk like that?” he asked. “I would give my life a thousand times over if it were possible to recover that sacred relic, which for untold ages has been the property of my god.” Ajeeb spoke with the greatest depth of religious fervor. His eyes stared, the muscles of his neck stood out like whipcords, and his form trembled. Barry had never before seen him so manifest himself. “Perhaps he hasn’t got the stone,” remarked Billy, after a pause. “The villain claims it was stolen from him by his servant.” “That may be the truth.” “No.” “How can you tell?” “I know. But I want to speak to you about another matter.” “Concerning Stolburst?” “Certainly.” “Go ahead.” “Do you know many detectives in this city?” asked Ajeeb. “A few.” “Do you know this one?” And the high priest gave a description of Burt Cromwell. “If your description is a good one, the man’s name is Burt Cromwell.” Until now Ajeeb had never heard the detective’s name. He had seen Burt leave the St. Joseph flat, and leaped at the conclusion that he was an officer and had been visiting Zulima. Of the interview between the princess and her uncle we know. Had Burt delayed his departure from Zulima’s apartments he would have met Ajeeb face to face. “Well,” said the high priest, “this man promises to cause trouble.” “To you?” “Both to you and me.” “Explain.” “He is employed by Stolburst, he told my niece, and is now searching for the latter.” “Well?” “He believes that I have either murdered Stolburst, or had him murdered.” Barry’s countenance took on a serious aspect. He had never had dealings with Burt Cromwell, but New York friends of his had. Billy knew that the detective was a man who would never desert a trail once he had taken it up. He now saw his own safety imperiled, because of the part he had in the kidnaping of Stolburst. “Billy,” said Ajeeb, after a pause, “why do you look so serious?” “Because I feel that way.” “There is nothing to fear.” “Ajeeb, this is bad business.” “You think this detective will make trouble, eh?” asked the Abyssinian. “I am sure of it.” “Nonsense. If he threatens us, I’ll have Ashah take care of his case.” “By that you mean----” “Ashah shall kill him.” Barry smiled. “Ajeeb, I’ll give you credit for being shrewd; but you will not be able to overreach Burt Cromwell, mark my words for it.” “Billy, you are becoming cowardly.” “This man is a human sleuth-hound, I might say. Nothing but death will arrest his progress, once he starts to unravel a case.” “Then he shall die.” “It is easy to say so.” “As a matter of fact, I have nothing to fear in any case. The detective does not know me, nor has he any clue to work upon.”