"Look closely, saidi ... these sands bear witness, and this dust bears witness ... and this moon also, who knows all things...."
Faster and yet faster the old man flung sand before him; yet slower and still more slowly he chanted in murmuring monotone, like the maddening pulse of a necromancer's drum.
Sayyid Yussuf stared fixedly into the veil of ever moving, ever present, living dust ... for the dust lived, and danced in tiny figures before him.... He shuddered....
"And now you see that which there is to see," chanted the beggar. "Now you see the peril into which you sent Azizah ... they file into the black pit of the Lord of the Black Hands ... and Abdemon whom you denied is bound, and can not save her ... it is written in this dust, saidi ... it is written on these sands ... and this moon bears witness, this moon who knows all that is to be ... for that which is to be is one with that which has been, O cousin of the Prophet...."
The beggar abruptly ceased chanting, and clapped his hands sharply.
"Wallah!" gasped the Shareef, blinking. "By my beard!"
He trembled violently at that which had left the beggar's swiftly weaving hands to dance in the tiny whirlwinds before him.
"That sign with the left hand, old man——"
"Just as I said. But it has not yet happened——"
"Not yet?"