It now became evident, even to the infatuated Gray, that Mrs. Irvin was laboring under the influence of tremendous excitement.  She turned to him quickly, and he thought that her face looked almost haggard, whilst her eyes seemed to have changed color—­become lighter, although he could not be certain that this latter effect was not due to the peculiar illumination of the room.  But when she spoke her voice was unsteady.

“Will you see if you can find a cab,” she said.  “It is so difficult at night, and my shoes will get frightfully muddy crossing Piccadilly.  I shall not be more than a few minutes.”  She walked through the doorway, the Egyptian standing aside as she passed.  He followed her, but came out again almost immediately, reclosed the door, and retired into the cabinet, which was evidently his private cubicle.

Silence claimed the apartment.  Sir Lucien threw himself nonchalantly upon the divan, and took out his cigarette-case.

“Will you have a cigarette, Gray?” he asked.

“No thanks,” replied the other, in tones of smothered hostility.  He was ill at ease, and paced the apartment nervously.  Pyne lighted a cigarette, and tossed the extinguished match into a brass bowl.

“I think,” said Gray jerkily, “I shall go for a cab.  Are you remaining?”

“I am dining at the club,” answered Pyne, “but I can wait until you return.”

“As you wish,” jerked Gray.  “I don’t expect to be long.”

He walked rapidly to the outer door, which opened at his approach and closed noiselessly behind him as he made his exit.

CHAPTER III

KAZMAH

Mrs. Monte Irvin entered the inner room.  The air was heavy with the perfume of frankincense which smouldered in a brass vessel set upon a tray.  This was the audience chamber of Kazmah.  In marked contrast to the overcrowded appointments, divans and cupboards of the first room, it was sparsely furnished.  The floor was thickly carpeted, but save for an ornate inlaid table upon which stood the tray and incense-burner, and a long, low-cushioned seat placed immediately beneath a hanging lamp burning dimly in a globular green shade, it was devoid of decoration.  The walls were draped with green curtains, so that except for the presence of the painted door, the four sides of the apartment appeared to be uniform.

Having conducted Mrs. Irvin to the seat, the Egyptian bowed and retired again through the doorway by which they had entered.  The visitor found herself alone.

She moved nervously, staring across at the blank wall before her.  With her little satin shoe she tapped the carpet, biting her under lip and seeming to be listening.  Nothing stirred.  Not even an echo of busy Bond Street penetrated to the place.  Mrs. Irvin unfastened her cloak and allowed it to fall back upon the settee.  Her bare shoulders looked waxen and unnatural in the weird light which shone down upon them.  She was breathing rapidly.