"Then if he is such a swordsman, let him meet this _kaffir_ in single combat, and may Allah judge between them!" demanded Sayyid Absál. "That," conceded the Shareef, "would be fair." Humayd's confusion did not escape Sayyid Absál. But the triumph was fleeting. "My lord," protested Zantut, "need we put a revelation from Allah to the trial of combat? Would that be an auspicious beginning, making the favored of Allah prove himself against an infidel?" "Assuredly not," agreed the Shareef. "Allah, and again, by Allah!" stormed Sayyid Absál. "My uncle's daughter identified this unbeliever as the stout swordsman of her visions. Let her at least identify this holy darvish." "That also would be well," admitted Zantut. "But my lord knows as well as I do what value to set on the fancy of a woman. She saw him sitting in the _souk_, smoking, and he pleased her. Is that to be taken against the revelations of an angel to a devout and holy man?" Zantut paused, stroked his beard, and continued: "Cousin of the Prophet, I am a peacemaker. I would not for the very treasure of Suleiman cause contention between you and your son. My disciple may have been deceived; or what he saw might have been a snare of Iblis. And lest injustice be done, let this _kaffir_ accompany us; and if Humayd fails in the ritual, then let the _kaffir_ prove himself. Thus we will have twice the chance of dissolving the curse that clouds the life of your brother's daughter." "Done, by Allah and by my beard!" exclaimed the Shareef. "Wise and holy man, none but Suleiman himself has equal wisdom." The Shareef twice clapped his hands. "Fresh camels for Zantut and his followers," he commanded. "A litter for the lady Azizah. Then get the infidel swordsman, well bound, and put him in a litter." With a lordly gesture, the Shareef dismissed Zantut and his companions. * * * * * An hour after sunset, ten swift _meharis_ filed past the sentries at the Isfayan Gate. Two of them bore between them a richly adorned _takht rawan_; and a third carried a litter of ordinary design. The other seven camels were ridden by the darvishes who but a short while before had been dismissed by the Shareef. A one-eyed hunch-backed beggar squatted at the gate, whining to Allah and all passers-by for alms. "The Lord will provide," growled Zantut from the height of his _mehari_. "Son of a flat-nosed mother," muttered the beggar as he adjusted the patch over his right eye, "you would be amazed if you knew what the Lord will provide for you!" He stroked his long beard, and grinned evilly. "Alms, in the name of Allah, alms!" he whined, the stout savagery of his expression changing swiftly to one more in keeping with his position as he noted the approach of a tall slave in a striped _kaftán_. The slave tossed him a coin, glanced quickly about him, then stooped and muttered in the mendicant's ear. "What's this?" demanded the beggar. "Released? How, and by whom?"