"Ma foi," she cried, "when one is a spy, one will stop at
nothing! But tiers, here is Madame!"
Nur-el-Din picked her way carefully down the steps, the
yellow-faced man behind her. He had a pistol in his hand. The
dancer said something in French to her maid who picked up the
tray and departed.
"Now, Mademoiselle," said Nur-el-Din, "you see this pistol. Rass
here will use it if you make any attempt to escape. You
understand me, hein? I come to give you a las' chance to say
where you 'ave my box..."
Barbara looked at the dancer defiantly.
"I've told you already I know nothing about it. You, if any one,
should be better able to say what has become of it..."
"Quoi?" exclaimed Nur-el-Din in genuine surprise, "comment?"
"Because," said Barbara, " a long black hair--one of your
hairs--was found adhering to the straps with which I was
fastened!"
"Tiens!" said the dancer, her black eyes wide with surprise,
"tiens!"
She was silent for a minute, lost in thought. The man, Rass,
suddenly cocked his ear towards the staircase and said something
to Nur-el-Din in the same foreign tongue which Barbara had heard
them employ before.
The dancer made a gesture, bidding him to be silent.
"He was at my dressing-table that night;" she murmured in French,
as though to herself, "then it was he who did it!"
She spoke rapidly to Barbara.
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