"It is well," said the chief, rising. He stood for a moment peering at Rrisa, while the hum and roar of the great air-liner's mechanism, the dip and sway of its vast body through the upper air, seemed to add a kind of oppressive solemnity to the tense situation. To the cabin wall the Master turned. There hung a large-scale map of the Arabian Peninsula. He laid a hand on the vast, blank interior, and nodded for Rrisa to approach.
"Listen, thou," said he. "Thy knowledge is sufficient. Thou dost understand the interpretation of maps, and canst read latitude and longitude. Mark here the place of the Hidden City!"
"Of the Bara Jannati Shahr, Master? Ah no, no!"
"So then, that is its name?" the chief demanded, smiling.
"No, M'almé. Thou dost know the Arabic. Thou dost understand this means only, in thy tongue, the Very Heavenly City."
"True. Well, let it pass. Very Heavenly City it shall be, till the real name becomes known. Come now, mark the place of the Hidden City and mark it truly, or the greatest of sins will lie upon thy soul!"
The Arab advanced a brown, quivering hand.
"Give me a pencil, Master, and I obey!" he answered, in a voice hardly audible.