In the same hour he had found and lost his love anew.
[CHAPTER III]
DARK PLOTTINGS
It was past the hour of midnight.
In a dimly lighted turret chamber in the house of Hormazd the Persian there sat two personages whose very presence seemed to enhance the sinister gloom that brooded over the circular vault.
The countenance of the Grand Chamberlain was paler than usual and there was a slight gathering of the eyebrows, not to say a frown, which in an ordinary mortal might have signified little, but in one who had so habitual a command of his emotions, would indicate to those who knew him well an unusual degree of restlessness. His voice was calm however, and now and then a bland smile belied the shadows on his brow.
At times his gaze stole towards a dimly lighted alcove wherein moved a dark cowled figure, its grotesque shadow reflected in distorted outlines upon the floor.
"The Moor tarries over long," Basil spoke at last.
"So do the ends of destiny," replied a voice that seemed to come from the bowels of the earth.