He had meant to look up that tale.  And now chance was reminding him of it again.  A superstitious man—­Ryder’s great grandfather, perhaps, would have felt it an omen of warning, and a devout man—­Ryder’s grandfather, perhaps—­would have taken it for a sign from Heaven to divert his steps.  Ryder reflected upon coincidence.

“When I saw her weeping,” Khazib was intoning, and now Ryder attended, his scanty knowledge of the vernacular straining and overleaping the blanks, “Prince Azib said to himself, ’By Allah, I will never open that fortieth door, never, and in no wise!’”

“A wise bird,” thought Ryder to himself, drawing on his cigarette.

“And I bade her farewell,” continued the voice slipping into the first person.  “Thereupon all departed, flying like birds, leaving me alone in the palace.  When evening drew near, I opened the door of the first chamber and found myself in a place like one of the pleasances of Paradise.  It was a garden with trees of freshest green and ripe fruits of yellow sheen.  And I walked among the trees and I smelt the breath of the flowers and heard the birds sing their praise to Allah, the One, the Almighty.”

“Allhamdollillah,” murmured Ryder’s neighbors reverently.

“And I looked upon the apple, whose hue is parcel red and parcel yellow ... and I looked upon the quince whose fragrance putteth to shame musk and ambergris ... and upon the pear whose taste surpasseth sherbet and sugar, and the apricot, whose beauty striketh the eye as she were a polished ruby....

“On the morrow I opened the second door and found myself in a spacious plain set with tall date palms and watered by a running stream whose banks were shrubbed with rose and jasmine, while privet and eglantine, oxe-eye, violet and lily, narcissus, origane and the winter gilliflower carpeted the borders; and the breath of the breeze swept over those sweet-smelling growths....”

How inadequate, Ryder realized, had been the description given by the Book of Genesis to the Garden of Eden.

“And the third door,” droned on the rhythmic voice, “into an open hall, hung with cages of sandal-wood and eagle-wood; full of birds which made sweet music, such as the mocking bird, and the cusha, the merle, the turtle dove—­and the Nubian ring-dove.”

A trifle restively Ryder stirred.  He liked birds but he wanted to be getting on to that fortieth door and this was slow progress.  Not a sign of impatience marred the bright, absorbed content of the other listeners, intent now upon the wonders behind that the fourth chamber revealed, stores of “pearls and jacinths and beryls, and emeralds and corals and carbuncles and all manner of precious gems and jewels such as the tongue of man could not describe.”

The story teller proceeded, “Then, quoth Prince Azib, now verily am I the monarch of the age, since by Allah’s grace this enormous wealth is mine; and I have forty damsels under my hand nor is there any to claim them save myself.”