“As impossible as the other fancy!” he responded almost gayly. “There are no gods and no devils, ma belle! The world is ruled by ourselves alone, and it behoves us to make the best of it. How will you give me my answer to-morrow? When shall I see you? Speak low and quickly,—Dr. Dean is coming in here from the garden: when—when?”
“I will send for you,” she answered.
“At what hour?”
“The moon rises at ten. And at ten my messenger shall come for you.”
“A trustworthy messenger, I hope? One who knows how to be silent?”
“As silent as the grave!” she said, looking at him fixedly. “As secret as the Great Pyramid and the hidden tomb of Araxes!”
And smiling, she turned to greet Dr. Dean, who just then entered the saloon.
“Denzil has gone to bed,” he announced. “He begged me to excuse him to you, Princess. I think the boy is feverish. Egypt doesn’t agree with him.”
“I am sorry he is ill,” said the Princess with a charming air of sympathy.
“Oh, he isn’t exactly ill,” returned the Doctor, looking sharply at her beautiful face as he spoke. “He is simply unnerved and restless. I am a little anxious about him. I think he ought to go back to England—or Scotland.”