“It is the wine cellar and the storeroom.  The iron chests contain the silver and gold plate that came from the great Rajah of Murpat in exchange for the five huge rubies which now adorn his crown.  The Rajah bartered his entire service of gold and silver for those wonderful gems.  The old sahibs stored the chests here many years ago.  But few know of their existence.  See!  They were hidden in the walls over there.  Von Blitz has found them.”

“Von Blitz!” in amazement.

“He has been here.  He has carried away many chests.  There were twenty in all.”

“And—­and he will return for these?” queried the Princess in alarm.

“Assuredly, most glorious one.  Soon, perhaps.  But be not afraid.  Selim can close the passage door.  He cannot get in.  He will be fooled, eh?  Why should you be afraid?  Have you not with you the most wonderful, the most brave sahib?  Would he not give his life for you?” The dark eyes sparkled with understanding—­aye, even mischief.  Genevra felt that this Oriental witch knew everything.  For a long time she looked in uncertain mood upon that smiling, wistful face.  Then she said softly, moved by an irresistible impulse to confess something, even obscurely: 

“Oh, if only I were such as you, Neenah, and could live forever on this dear island!”

Neenah’s smile deepened, her eyes glowed with discernment.  With a meaning gleam in their depths, she said:  “But, most high, there are no princes here.  There is no one to whom the most gracious one could be sold.  No one who could pay more than a dozen rubies.  Women are cheap here, and you would be a woman, not a most beautiful princess.”

“I would not care to be a princess, perhaps.”

“You love my Sahib Chase?” demanded Neenah abruptly, eagerly.

“Neenah!” gasped Genevra, with a startled look.  Neenah looked intently into the unsteady, blue-grey eyes and then bent over to kiss the hand of the Princess.  The latter laughed almost aloud in her confusion.  She caught herself up quickly and said with some asperity:  “You foolish child, I am to become a prince’s wife.  How can I love your sahib?  What nonsense!  I am to marry a prince and he is not to pay for me in rubies.”

“Ah, how wonderful!” cried Neenah, with ravishing candour.  “A prince for a husband and the glorious Sahib Chase for a lover all your life!  Ah!” The exclamation was no less than a sigh of rapturous endorsement.

The Princess stared at her first in consternation, then in dismay.  Before she could find words to combat this alarming prophecy, so ingenuously presented to her reflections, Selim and Hollingsworth Chase returned to the chamber.  She was distressed, even confounded, to find that she was staring at Chase with a strange, abashed curiosity growing in her eyes—­a stare that she suddenly was afraid he might observe and appreciate.  A wave of revulsion, of shame, spread over her whole being.  She shuddered slightly as she turned her face away from his eager gaze:  it was as if she recognised the fear that he was even now contemplating the future as Neenah had painted it for her.