“They had best say nothing of what they believe to me,” muttered Godwin.

“I thank you,” Masouda answered, with a sweet, swift smile, and, throwing off her cloak, stood before them unveiled, clad in the white robes that befitted her tall and graceful form so well, and were blazoned on the breast with the cognizance of Baalbec.  “Well for you,” she went on, “that they hold me to be what I am not, since otherwise I should win no entry to this house.”

“What of our lady Rosamund?” broke in Wulf awkwardly, for, like Godwin, he was pained.

Masouda laid her hand upon her breast as though to still its heaving, then answered: 

“The princess of Baalbec, my mistress, is well and as ever, beautiful, though somewhat weary of the pomp in which she finds no joy.  She sent her greetings, but did not say to which of you they should be delivered, so, pilgrims, you must share them.”

Godwin winced, but Wulf asked if there were any hope of seeing her, to which Masouda answered: 

“None,” adding, in a low voice, “I come upon another business.  Do you brethren wish to do Salah-ed-din a service?”

“I don’t know.  What is it?” asked Godwin gloomily.

“Only to save his life—­for which he may be grateful, or may not, according to his mood.”

“Speak on,” said Godwin, “and tell us how we two Franks can save the life of the Sultan of the East.”

“Do you still remember Sinan and his fedais?  Yes—­they are not easily forgotten, are they?  Well, to-night he has plotted to murder Salah-ed-din, and afterwards to murder you if he can, and to carry away your lady Rosamund if he can, or, failing that, to murder her also.  Oh! the tale is true enough.  I have it from one of them under the Signet—­surely that Signet has served us well—­who believes, poor fool, that I am in the plot.  Now, you are the officers of the bodyguard who watch in the ante-chamber to-night, are you not?  Well, when the guard is changed at midnight, the eight men who should replace them at the doors of the room of Salah-ed-din will not arrive; they will be decoyed away by a false order.  In their stead will come eight murderers, disguised in the robes and arms of Mameluks.  They look to deceive and cut you down, kill Salah-ed-din, and escape by the further door.  Can you hold your own awhile against eight men, think you?”

“We have done so before and will try,” answered Wulf.  “But how shall we know that they are not Mameluks?”

“Thus—­they will wish to pass the door, and you will say, ’Nay, sons of Sinan,’ whereon they will spring on you to kill you.  Then be ready and shout aloud.”

“And if they overcome us,” asked Godwin, “then the Sultan would be slain?”

“Nay, for you must lock the door of the chamber of Salah-ed-din and hide away the key.  The sound of the fighting will arouse the outer guard ere hurt can come to him.  Or,” she added, after thinking awhile, “perhaps it will be best to reveal the plot to the Sultan at once.”