Theos started, . .  Sah-luma listened with placid indifference. “’Tis a case of self-slaughter”—­pursued Zibya chattily.. “or so say the wise writers who are supposed to know everything, . . self-slaughter committed during a state of temporary insanity!  Well, well!  I myself would have had a different opinion.”

“And a sagacious one no doubt!” interrupted Sah-luma coldly, and with a dangerous flash as of steel in his eyes..  “But.. be advised, good Zibya! ... give thine opinion no utterance!”

The old negro shrank back nervously, making numerous apologetic gestures, and waited in abashed silence till the Laureate’s features regained their wonted soft serenity.  Then he ventured to speak again,—­though not without a little hesitation.

“Concerning the topics of the hour...” he murmured timorously..  “My lord is perhaps not aware that the river itself is a subject of much excited discussion,—­the water having changed to a marvellous blood-color during the night, which singular circumstance hath caused a great panic among the populace.  Even now, as I passed by the embankment, the crowd there was thick as a hive of swarming bees!”

He paused, but Sah-luma made no remark, and he continued more glibly, “Also, to-day’s ‘Circular’ contains the full statement of the King’s reward for the capture of the Prophet Khosrul, and the formal Programme of the Sacrificial Ceremonial announced to take place this evening in the Temple of Nagaya.  All is set forth in the fine words of the petty public scribes, who needs must make as much as possible out of little,—­and there is likewise a so-called facsimile of the King’s signature, which will naturally be of supreme interest to the vulgar.  Furthermore it is proclaimed that a grand Combat of wild beasts in the Royal Arena will follow immediately after the Service in the Temple is concluded,—­ methinks none will go to bed early, seeing there is so full a list of amusements!”

He paused again, somewhat out of breath,—­and Sah-luma meanwhile unrolled the linen scroll he had purchased, which measured about twenty-four inches in length and twenty in width.  Carefully ruled black and red lines divided it into nearly the same number of columns as those on the page of an ordinary newspaper, and it was covered with close writing, here and there embellished by bold, profusely ornamented headings.  One of these, “Death of the Sculptor, Nir-jalis,” seemed to burn into Theos’s brain like letters of fire,—­how was it, he wondered, that the body of that unfortunate victim had been found on the shore of the river, when he himself had seen it loaded with iron weights, and cast into the lake that formed part of Lysia’s fatal garden?  Presently Sah-luma passed the scroll to him with a smile, saying lightly: