My eyes, become accustomed to the darkness, could see the pyramid of cushions on which Antinea had first appeared to me.
Suddenly I stumbled. The leopard had stopped. I realized that I had stepped on his tail. Brave beast, he did not make a sound.
Groping along the wall, I felt a second door. Quietly, very quietly, I opened it as I had opened the preceding one. The leopard whimpered feebly.
"King Hiram," I murmured, "be quiet."
And I put my arms about his powerful neck.
I felt his warm wet tongue on my hands. His flanks quivered. He shook with happiness.
In front of us, lighted in the center, another room opened up. In the middle six men were squatting on the matting, playing dice and drinking coffee from tiny copper coffee cups with long stems.
They were the white Tuareg.
A lamp, hung from the ceiling, threw a circle of light over them. Everything outside that circle was in deep shadow.
The black faces, the copper cups, the white robes, the moving light and shadow, made a strange etching.