Then he let her hands go and touched the silver tray of sand upon the table beside him.

“Behold!  Love shall be offered thee within the passing of a few hours, the love of thy right hand, and thou shalt reject it.  Searching for that which thou desirest thou shalt, surrounded by thy women who love thee, pass down the river even unto Thebes of the Hundred Gates.  Yet shalt thou not find it in the river, nor in the temples upon the east bank of the waters, nor upon the west bank.”

Drawing a square in the sand, the fortune-teller made a cross at the south-east, upon which, to see it better, the girl drew close—­so close that the sweet perfume of her veils filled his nostrils.

“Then shalt thou, in thy search, go, even under the stars, to the Gate of Tomorrow, and there shall thou find a mare descended from the mares of Mohammed, the Prophet of Allah the one and only God.  White is the mare, and beautiful, yea, even is she like unto thee, thou woman of ivory; her bit is of silver, her bridle of plaited gold, her saddle-cloth encrusted with jewels.  Thou wilt spring upon her, and she, knowing her way, will bring thee to the Tents of Purple and Gold.”

“Ah!” whispered the girl.  “The Tents of the long-dead Queen!  They are the talk of Cairo, but nobody—­at least, no foreigner—­has seen them.”

“No man but the servants, no woman but the mother of him who is the master, has even set foot within the Tents of Purple and of Gold; no one but the master has set foot in the tent which stands between them, the Tent of Death.”

“And in them—­if I come, what—­what should I find?”

“No harm shall befall thee, no smirching of thy fair name.  The master alone shall greet thee, and when thou hast found that for which thou searchest, then shalt thou return, if so thou wilt.”

“And peace—­rest I think I mean—­is it in your Tents of Purple and Gold?”

“Peace is to be found within the Temple of Anubis, who is the god of Death, and there only.”

The girl shivered and lifted her head, as from some part of the hotel there drifted the wonderful desert love-song which begins: 

“My love for thee is as the sun at noon——­”

Then she looked at the man whose face she had not plainly seen in the passing of the hour.

“How am I to believe you?  Will you give me a sign, something, anything, so that I shall know that if I ever want to visit the wonderful tents I shall find them?”

She only spoke to gain time.

Knowing that outside the curtain there stretched the path across the Field of Content, she deliberately placed her foot upon the desert sand, and whilst common sense urged her to get out of the room, she listened to temptation and lingered, throwing safety to the four winds, opening wide her arms to danger.

“By the sign of the black stallion who awaits thee at dawn near all that remaineth upright of the City of On, shalt thou find the Tents of Purple and Gold.”