“It was well done, O! brother—­neatly, and with strength—­leaving no trace of blood to speak of.  But now must we proceed with cunning, else may we too be lying lifeless upon our backs.  Take even thy knife, my brother, ’twere a pity to leave it in yon carcase!”

Indifferently turning the body over, the boy drew the knife, as indifferently wiping it on the dead man’s raiment, and stood for a moment as still as any one of the exotic specimens of statuary which ornamented the whole house.

Truly and implicitly had the orders of the master been obeyed; there was no sound of any living thing in or near the place, so that after a few whispered words the curtain was gently pulled back and the door opened just as gently inch by inch.

For a long minute the two men peered in through the crack, their eyes searching swiftly for sign of him whom they searched.

Unavailing at first, until with a motion of the head the younger one pointed.

“Look!  Yonder he sleeps!”

The room was still brilliantly lighted by the many lamps hanging from the ceilings and the walls, but the shadow of the great mass of growing plants fell upon the divan upon which Jill had sat some few hours ago.

Inch by inch the door was opened, until it was wide enough to allow the dusky slender body of the boy to slip in.  Round the wall he slid, his eyes a-glisten, and the knife fast held between his teeth; then down upon his hands and knees he sank to crawl as quietly as a cat up to the back of the flowering plants.  And then he quite suddenly sprang to his feet, beckoning to his companion, who sped straight across the room, knife in hand.

“Behold!  O! brother!”

And a world of disappointment rang in the whispered words as the youth pointed disgustedly to the picture before him.

Very peacefully lay the man whose name had been a byword in the land of Egypt, and whose delight had been in the moral and physical terrors of women.

His eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open, showing the white teeth; the hands were gently clasped, but over the spot where should have been his heart, and on the silken coverings of the cushions, spread a great crimson patch of blood, whilst at his feet, lying prone across the couch, was the body of a girl.  Her eyes were open, and a little smile widened the beautiful mouth, but from the spot above the heart which had so unwisely and so well loved, glittered the jewelled hilt of a dagger.  One hand touched the hem of her master’s coat, but what the bastinado had left of the little feet seemed to shriek aloud for vengeance, vengeance for the dead child, and vengeance for all those who had likewise suffered.

“Allah!  Allah!” The cry cleft the stillness of the room as the boy’s eyes fell upon the terrible sight; and the knife flashed twice and thrice, and yet again, until the evil beauty of the dead man’s face had been entirely obliterated, and a strong hand gripped the supple wrist.