"He is Kathulos of Egypt—that is all I know. My master."
"An Egyptian? Then what is he doing in London—why all this mystery?"
She intertwined her fingers nervously.
"Steephen, please speak lower; always there is someone listening everywhere. I do not know who the Master is or why he is here or why he does these things. I swear by Allah! If I knew I would tell you. Sometimes distinguished-looking men come here to the room where the Master receives them—not the room where you saw him—and he makes me dance before them and afterward flirt with them a little. And always I must repeat exactly what they say to me. That is what I must always do—in Turkey, in the Barbary States, in Egypt, in France and in England. The Master taught me French and English and educated me in many ways himself. He is the greatest sorcerer in all the world and knows all ancient magic and everything."
"Zuleika," I said, "my race is soon run, but let me get you out of this—come with me and I swear I'll get you away from this fiend!"
She shuddered and hid her face.
"No, no, I can not!"
"Zuleika," I asked gently, "what hold has he over you, child—dope also?"
"No, no!" she whimpered. "I do not know—I do not know—but I can not—I never can escape him!"
I sat, baffled for a few moments; then I asked, "Zuleika, where are we right now?"