He lay gazing around the room as best he could. Did that drapery in the far corner move? He watched closely. Yes, it was moving. What now? It was pushed aside, and through a small opening crept a figure. A woman, he perceived, but who? Coming into the light he recognized the dancer whom the Berber had called Cintani. Was he to go through another ordeal of the kind he had just been subjected to? Maddened by his helplessness, he was about to scream out a curse, when the girl whispered, in poor French, “Keep quiet--I will help you.” Tip-toe she crept towards him. To his relief, Carl saw that she had other intentions than to charm him. From her girdle he saw her take a key. With quick fingers the shackles were unlocked and Carl set up, free! He could but look his thanks--he had no time for words, for again, with cautioning finger the slave-girl whispered, “The girl--the one you came with, come!” Taking Carl’s arms she led him across the room, stopping before a great rug, suspended curtain-wise from the ceiling. “In there,” she whispered, and was gone. Carefully Carl moved the rug aside. It concealed a heavy wooden door. And on the other side! Peering through a small hole in the door Carl saw Sana lying on a heap of cushions, while Amshied, back to Carl, knelt beside her, caressing and fondling her. Sana was still happily insensible to her predicament. With an effort, Carl suppressed a cry. He felt for his revolver. He recalled, then, that the women had taken it away from him. He looked about the room. Not a thing that would serve as a weapon was to be had. He tried the door. To his relief it was unlocked. Slowly he slid it open. A low growl, coming from somewhere at his side made him jump back in alarm. No, there was nothing in the room with him. Again a growl, accompanied with the sniffing of an animal. Desperate, Carl pulled the rug aside. To his horror he saw an iron-barred door, behind which, stretched full length on the floor, lay a huge Nubian lion--the black lion of the deserts--the king of the lion tribe. Should the lion roar or spring at the door, Carl realized with a flash, all was lost. Amshied would be aroused from his sensual desires, and all hope of rescue would disappear. To his amazement, the lion merely yawned and blinked his eyes. Often had he seen just such a scared human at the other side of his door. No need of hurrying, no need of wasting breath. Sooner or later the feast would be his!