“I thought it better to deny ever having had the accursed gem in my possession.” “Then,” said the detective, “you may have made a fatal mistake.” CHAPTER II. PRINCESS ZULIMA. Seated in the neat and cozy parlor of an up-town flat was a very dark-skinned young woman and her maid. The former was almost black, but her features were oval, her lips small, and her hair straight and long. The maid was a French girl and rather pretty. The pair were startled by a loud rap at the door. “Open the door, Marie.” The French girl obeyed. A small man with dark skin and still darker eyes entered. His eyes were of extraordinary size, and for all that they had a piercing expression. “You!” The expression seemed to have been painfully wrung from the woman’s heart. The visitor laughed. “Zulima,” he said, “I would be alone with you.” Marie did not recognize the strange language used by the pair. For all that she noticed a hunted and frightened expression in her mistress’ eyes. “Go!” Zulima spoke in English, and waved her maid from the apartment. Very reluctantly Marie obeyed the command. She had taken an instant dislike to the visitor. Marie was smart beyond her class, and knew the newcomer meant her mistress no good. She determined to remain in the hallway, where she would be within call. “So, my pretty song-bird,” said the visitor, when the door closed behind Marie, “I guess you did not expect to see me so soon?” “I believed, uncle, you were in Gondar,” said Zulima. “Your Uncle Ajeeb, you see, could not bear to have you out of his sight.” “You do not come to drag me back to Abyssinia?” “Would you not like to go?” “No.” “Has this Western world made you forget that the son of our good King John would make you queen of his harem?” “Did he send you to bring me back?” said Zulima, greatly affrighted at the prospect. “He is the son of a king.” “And is that any reason why I should become his slave?” “I am your guardian.” “True, Uncle Ajeeb.” “You ran away from me?” “Yes, and was glad of the opportunity. In the world of the white man, women are looked up to and not downtrodden, as in our unhappy country.” Ajeeb laughed ironically. “You are not of age, and even the laws of this country will restore you to my possession,” he said. Zulima shuddered. She had been taught to look up to this man and made to believe that his wisdom surpassed even that of the head sheik of Gondar. “I would die rather than go back,” the girl said. “You mean,” said Ajeeb, and his face became distorted with rage, “that you would die rather than leave this American.” “Look what Mr. Stolburst has done for me, uncle.” “Don’t speak to me of what he has done,” thundered Ajeeb. “He has shown me that I have a better life before me than that of a slave, even if my master should be a prince.” “Stolburst tore you away from home,” said the visitor. “It was because I asked him to help me that he did so.”