Marishka had won. It was with difficulty that she restrained her companion from disrobing again and putting on the new garment, but at last by dint of much persuasion she succeeded in getting Yeva to put on her own garments, her head dress, veil and yashmak, and in a short while they were both attired for the street. With a last look around the room, a short vigil at the dutap for sounds of watchful Zubeydeh, Yeva timorously found the key of the lower door, pushed the hanging aside, and with a last rapturous look at the draperies upon the dressing stand, vanished into the darkness of the door.
Marishka, her heart beating high with hope, quickly packed a few of her belongings into a small package and followed. It was very dark upon the narrow stair, but with a hand upon the wall to steady herself, she slowly descended. Feeling for the steps with her feet, at last she reached the floor below, and stepping cautiously forward came upon a blank wall. She turned to the left and found her egress stopped—to the right—yes, there was a door. She fingered for the latch and found it, opening the door, which let in the daylight. But just as she was about to step out, she started back in sudden consternation. Upon the step, grim and forbidding, dressed in fez, white shirt, and wide breeches, stood a man with folded arms facing her. He made no sign of greeting, nor did he change his posture by so much as a millimeter, but she heard his voice quite distinctly, though he spoke in a low tone.
"You will be pleased to return at once."
"But I——" It was the courage of desperation—short-lived, alas!
"At once," the man repeated, unfolding his arms. "At once—or shall I——"
Marishka waited no more upon the order of her going but went at once, finding her way up the dusty stairs, terrified, again a prey to the most agonizing fears.
Would Yeva find Hugh at the Hotel Europa?