“They will find you,” said Maie, softly. “And they will kill you.”
“What does it matter?” he rejoined, recklessly. “One moment such as this is worth a hundred deaths!”
With a sudden movement she freed herself from his embrace and sat up, facing him.
“Take this key,” she whispered, drawing it from her bosom, where it was secured by a silken thread. “It unlocks the Gate of the Griffins, at the end of our garden. Meet me there tonight—an hour before midnight—and take care you are seen by no prying eye. And now, go—and go quickly!”
She broke the thread and handed him a tiny silver key, which he thrust into his pocket.
“One kiss, sweetheart,” he begged; “just one more to comfort me until—”
“Go, or all is lost,” she answered, almost fiercely, and seizing his arm she dragged him to another doorway and thrust him from the room with a force her slender form did not seem to warrant.
It was time. Allison heard footsteps and voices, and staggering through an ante-room he barely had time to reach the outer chamber and throw himself into a chair when David and a slave entered.
“Hiss goot Excellency, de vizier, vill see you,” said David, looking with open surprise into Allison’s flushed and excited face.
“I must have fallen asleep, David,” said the American, reaching out his arms as if to stretch them, “for I dreamed I was in Paradise, and you were imploring the Prophet to pardon my sins.”