He had a better argument than any of these in reserve, however. If the Englishman really succeeded in winning Aneth’s love in the end, then Kāra knew how to compel the girl to obedience.
As he left his room he found the dragoman leaning against a pillar of the courtyard.
“Is Nephthys here?” he inquired.
“I suppose so,” answered the dragoman, yawning sleepily. “She was due to arrive this afternoon, wasn’t she?”
Kāra looked at him with sudden suspicion.
“Have you seen her?” he demanded.
“Am I the keeper of your harem?” retorted Tadros, indignantly. “Old Tilga has been hidden in the women’s quarters for hours. Probably she is attending to your Nephthys.”
He eyed his master disdainfully, and Kāra walked on and entered the carriage. He had barely time to join the company at dinner, and Nephthys could wait.
Winston was not present this evening, and the prince found Aneth unusually gracious. She chatted so pleasantly, her manner was so friendly and her clear eyes so sweet and intelligent, that Kāra gave way to the moment’s enchantment and forgot all else in the delight of her society.
Nor did he recover readily from the spell. After returning home he paced the floor for an hour, recalling the English girl’s fair face and every change of its expression. Then he gave a guilty start as a recollection of Hatatcha swept over him, impressing upon his memory his fearful oath.