‘A judgment hath gone forth against Honain!’ ‘Nay! he is Lord Jabaster’s brother,’ said Abidan.
‘It is enough to save a more inveterate foe to Israel, if such there be.’
‘I have no brother, Sir. The man you speak of I will not slay, since there are others who may do that deed. And so again, good night.’
It was the dead of night, a single lamp burned in the chamber, which opened into an arched gallery that descended by a flight of steps into the gardens of the Serail.
A female figure ascended the flight with slow and cautious steps. She paused on the gallery, she looked around, one foot was in the chamber.
She entered. She entered a chamber of small dimensions, but richly adorned. In the farthest corner was a couch of ivory, hung with a gauzy curtain of silver tissue, which, without impeding respiration, protected the slumberer from the fell insects of an Oriental night. Leaning against an ottoman was a large brazen shield of ancient fashion, and near it some helmets and curious weapons.
‘An irresistible impulse hath carried me into this chamber!’ exclaimed the prophetess. ‘The light haunted me like a spectre; and wheresoever I moved, it seemed to summon me.
‘A couch and a slumberer!’
She approached the object, she softly withdrew the curtain. Pale and panting, she rushed back, yet with a light step. She beheld Alroy!
For a moment she leant against the wall, overpowered by her emotions. Again she advanced, and gazed on her unconscious victim.