“Good-night!” responded Denzil, coldly, as he moved on and disappeared. A slight shiver ran through Gervase’s blood as he watched him depart. “Odd that I should imagine I have seen the last of him!” he murmured. “There are strange portents in the air of the desert, I suppose! Is he going to his death? Or am I going to mine?” Again the cold tremor shook him, and combating with his uneasy sensations, he went to his own apartment, there to await the expected summons of the Princess. No triumph filled him now; no sense of joy elated him; a vague fear and dull foreboding were all the emotions he was conscious of. Even his impatient desire of love had cooled, and he watched the darkening of night over the desert, and the stars shining out one by one in the black azure of the heavens, with a gradually deepening depression. A dreamy sense stole over him of remoteness or detachment from all visible things, as though he were suddenly and mysteriously separated from the rest of humankind by an invisible force which he was powerless to resist. He was still lost in this vague half-torpor or semi-conscious reverie, when a light tap startled him back to the realization of earth and his earthly surroundings. In response to his “_Entrez!_” the tall Nubian, whom he had seen in Cairo as the guardian of the Princess’s household, appeared, his repulsive features looking, if anything, more ghastly and hideous than ever. “_Madame la Princesse demande votre présence!_” said this unlovely attendant of one of the fairest of women. “_Suivez-moi!_” Without a moment’s hesitation or loss of time, Gervase obeyed, and allowing his guide to precede him at a little distance, followed him through the corridors of the hotel, out at the hall door and beyond, through the garden. A clock struck ten as they passed into the warm evening air, and the mellow rays of the moon were beginning to whiten the sides of the Great Pyramid. A few of the people staying in the hotel were lounging about, but these paid no particular heed to Gervase or his companion. At about two hundred yards from the entrance of the Mena House, the Nubian stopped and waited till Gervase came up with him. “_Madame la Princesse vous aime, Monsieur Gervase!_” he said, with a sarcastic grin. “_Mais,--elle veut que l’Amour soit toujours aveugle! oui, toujours! C’est le destin qui vous appelle,--il faut soumettre! L’Amour sans yeux! oui!--enfin,--comme ça!_” And before Gervase could utter a word of protest, or demand the meaning of this strange proceeding, his arms were suddenly seized and pinioned behind his back, his mouth gagged, and his eyes blindfolded. “_Maintenant_,” continued the Nubian. “_Nous irons ensemble!_”