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Page 46
"Yes, the doorkeeper. No, that is not safe.... If only that girl
were sure----"
"Mariayah?" cried Arlee.
"No, the other--the little one with the wart over her eye. Have you
seen her? Well, watch for her, then. She has an itching palm--she
may help. But only in little things, of course, for she is afraid.
And I have no money left and she is afraid to take a jewel."
"I have almost no money," said Arlee blankly. "Only a letter of
credit----"
"A letter of nothing here! But promise her your friends will give
much."
"Would she mail a letter?"
"Have you stamps? No? She is so ignorant that is an obstacle. And
the post is distant and she dare not go far. But sometimes the baker
sends a little boy, and if you had money to give she might get a
note to him to carry--though, maybe, she burns the note and keeps
the money," the Viennese ended pessimistically.
"But I must get help _at once_," Arlee iterated passionately.
Before----"
"Before?" the other repeated curiously, "He makes love to you--h'm?"
"He--is beginning."
"Only beginning?"
"Only--beginning." Arlee felt the girl's strange, hard scrutiny
through the dark. Then she heard her draw a quick breath as if her
eyes on Arlee's flower-like face had convinced her of something
against all her sorry little reason.
"Well, that is good then," she said. "Try to keep him off. What does
he promise you?"
"Promise me? He does not promise anything."
"But he must say something--what is between you--what?" demanded the
other impatiently.
Briefly, her shamed cheeks grateful for the shadows, Arlee told of
that walk in the garden, of the flowers and the letter, the scene
after dinner. And the other girl's eyes grew wider and wider, and
then finally she burst into a smothered little laugh.
"Oh, he is mad, that Hamdi!" she whispered. "He is a monster of
vanity--'conquest of the spirit'--h'm, I comprehend. That young man
has a pride beyond all sense. You dazzle him--he is in love again
like a boy. And he must dazzle you. His pride demands a victory not
of force alone.... Some men are like that.... Well, that is your
chance!"
"My chance?"
"Play with his vanity--fight his force with that!" said this strange
initiator into terrible secrets. "He will believe anything of his
fascinations--I know him. And if he is so mad for you that he dares
all this trouble to have you here, then he is so mad that you can
fool him and make him hold back in hopes to gain more from you. Make
him think you are coming, as he wishes, heart and body, but still
you would wait a little. So you gain time.... Oh, you must be
careful! If he loses hope, if you anger him, why the game is over.
But if you are careful you can gain a few days----"
"A few days," said Arlee in a tense little voice.
"Well, that is something--since you hate him so!"
"Yes, that is something." Arlee drew a shivering breath, her head
drooping, her lashes on her cheeks. Then suddenly, amazingly, her
chin came pluckily up, her soft lips set with desperate decision,
her eyes turned on her counselor a look of flashing spirit. She was
like some young wild thing at bay, harried, defiant, tensely
defensive. Something of the pathos of her innocent presence there,
in that evil palace, utterly alone, hopelessly defiant, penetrated
for an instant the callous acceptances of the little dancer and her
eyes softened with facile sympathy, but the impression dulled, and
she only nodded her head encouragingly.
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