“That is of no importance whatever, Rrisa,” answered the Master with an odd smile.  “What thy people do to the unbeliever, if they capture him, is nothing to me.  For—­dost thou see?—­they must first make the capture.  What I would most like to know is this:  where is all that treasure, now?”

“I cannot tell you, Master.”

“At Mecca?”

“No, Master, not at Mecca.”

“Then where?”

“M’alme! My lips are sealed as the Forbidden Books!”

“Not against the commands of thy sheik—­and I am thy sheik!”

Rrisa’s lips twitched.  The inner struggle of his soul reflected itself in his lean, brown face.  At last he aroused himself to make answer: 

“The treasure, Master, is far to the south-east—­in another city.”

“Ah!  So there is another city far out in Ruba el Khali, the Empty Abodes!”

“Yea, M’alme, that is so.”

“Then the ancient rumor is true?  And it is from near that city that thou didst come, eh?  By Allah’s power, I command thee to tell me of this hidden city of the central deserts!”

“This thing I cannot do, my sheik.”

“This thing thou must do!”

“O Master!  It is the secret of all secrets!  Spare me this!”

“No Rrisa, thou must obey.  Far inside El Hejaz (the barrier), that city is lying for my eyes to behold.  I must know of it.  Thy oath to me cannot be broken.  Speak, thou!”

The Master made no gesture with his hands, did not frown or clench his fists, but remained impassively calm.  His words, however, cut Rrisa like knives.  The orderly remained trembling and sweating, with a piteous expression.  Finally he managed to stammer: 

“M’alme, in our tongue we have a proverb:  ’There are two things colder than ice—­a young old man and an old young man.’  There is still a colder thing—­the soul that betrays the Hidden City!”

“Speak Rrisa!  There is no escape for thee!”

“My sheik, I obey,” quavered the unfortunate orderly, shaken with a palsy of fear.  Without a quiver, the Arab would rush a machine-gun position or face a bayonet-charge; but this betrayal of his kin struck at the vitals of his faith.  Still, the Master’s word was law even above Al Koran.  With trembling lips he made answer: 

“This city—­spare me uttering its name, Master!—­lies many hours’ journey, even by this Eagle of the Sky, beyond the Iron Mountains that no man of the Feringi hath ever seen.  It lies beyond the Great Sand Barrier, in a valley of the Inner Mountains; yea, at the very heart of Ruba el Khali.”

“I hear thee, Rrisa.  Speak further.  And let thy speaking be truth!”

“It shall be truth, by the Prophet’s beard!  What doth the Master ask of me?”

“Is it a large city, Rrisa?”

“Very large.”

“And beautiful?”

“As the Jebel Radhwa!” (Mountain of Paradise).