"A neighboring king," began Rankin, "proposed a riddle that Suleiman could not solve. Therefore he swore by his beard that if I, Abdemon, a captain of his guard, would solve the riddle, he would give me his daughter, who was the granddaughter of the sultan of Egypt. Suleiman, the Lord of the Name, swore by his beard and by his right hand, but he failed to add, '_Inshallah!_ If it so please God.' And Allah punished Suleiman for his impiety by giving Iblis, prince of djinn, full power over the promise of Suleiman for a whole day. And during that day of power, Iblis abducted my bride-to-be, so that Suleiman could not keep the oath he had sworn. Yet in the end Allah relented, and granted that after the march of centuries Suleiman would finally be able to keep his promise: provided that Abdemon in one of his incarnations would meet Iblis, sword to sword, and defeat him. And thus, bound by my oath to Suleiman, and bound by my love for this girl who was almost mine, I have marched across the centuries, from one failure to another, to meet Iblis, the Dark Presence, in the vault, on the night of the 14th of Nisan: the first full moon of spring. "In those days they called her Neferte, but now she is called Azizah," continued Rankin. "And on nights of the full moon she lies as one dead; her heartbeat is stopped, and her breath is imperceptible." "Well said," agreed the Shareef. "Now for the final proof: give me the seal." "What seal?" countered Rankin. "The leaden seal from the shattered urn." Rankin started at this glib mention of the seal his father had given him nearly twenty years ago, and wondered how the Shareef could know of the incident. "That I can not do," declared Rankin. "It is the leaden impression of the seal of Suleiman Baalshem, who commanded that no hands other than my own should touch it." The old man nodded and smiled. "I was aware also of that. So hold it in your own hands that I may examine it." Rankin produced a small leather bag suspended from a chain passed around his neck. Opening the bag, he took therefrom a small disk of lead, and held it up for the Shareef to examine. The Shareef and his son bowed low. "_Bismillahi rahmani raheem!_" they exclaimed. "Praise to God, Lord of the Worlds! It is truly the seal of Suleiman Baalshem." "But tell me," continued the Shareef, "who told you that you would find your destiny in Tekrit?" "Ismeddin the Darvish interpreted the dreams which have haunted me since I was a boy, and told me how I could release your brother's daughter from the blackness that clouds her senses on nights of the full moon, when the power of Iblis the Damned is at its height," replied Rankin. The Shareef frowned at the mention of Ismeddin. "So that old ruffian and heretic sent you to Tekrit? Did he by any chance speak of the dooms that overtake meddlers who roam about here in search of adventure?"