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  CHAPTER II. THE APARTMENTS OF KAZMAH

  It was rather less than two hours earlier on the same evening thatQuentin Gray came out of the confectioner's shop in old Bond Streetcarrying a neat parcel. Yellow dusk was closing down upon this bazaarof the New Babylon, and many of the dealers in precious gems, vendorsof rich stuffs, and makers of modes had already deserted their shops.Smartly dressed show-girls, saleswomen, girl clerks and others crowdedthe pavements, which at high noon had been thronged with ladies offashion. Here a tailor's staff, there a hatter's lingered awhile as ironshutters and gratings were secured, and bidding one another good night,separated and made off towards Tube and bus. The working day was ended.Society was dressing for dinner.

  Gray was about to enter the cab which awaited him, and hisfresh-colored, boyish face wore an expression of eager expectancy,which must have betrayed the fact to an experienced beholder that he washurrying to keep an agreeable appointment. Then, his hand resting on thehandle of the cab-door, this expression suddenly changed to one of alertsuspicion.

  A tall, dark man, accompanied by a woman muffled in grey furs andwearing a silk scarf over her hair, had passed on foot along theopposite side of the street. Gray had seen them through the cab windows.

  His smooth brow wrinkled and his mouth tightened to a thin straight linebeneath the fair "regulation" moustache. He fumbled under his overcoatfor loose silver, drew out a handful and paid off the taximan.

  Sometimes walking in the gutter in order to avoid the throngs uponthe pavement, regardless of the fact that his glossy dress-boots werebecoming spattered with mud, Gray hurried off in pursuit of the pair.Twenty yards ahead he overtook them, as they were on the point ofpassing a picture dealer's window, from which yellow light streamedforth into the humid dusk. They were walking slowly, and Gray stopped infront of them.

  "Hello, you two!" he cried. "Where are you off to? I was on my way tocall for you, Rita."

  Flushed and boyish he stood before them, and his annoyance wasincreased by their failure to conceal the fact that his appearance wasembarrassing if not unwelcome. Mrs. Monte Irvin was a petite, prettywoman, although some of the more wonderful bronzed tints of her hairsuggested the employment of henna, and her naturally lovely complexionwas delicately and artistically enhanced by art. Nevertheless, theflower-like face peeping out from the folds of a gauzy scarf, like arose from a mist, whilst her soft little chin nestled into the fur,might have explained even in the case of an older man the infatuationwhich Quentin Gray was at no pains to hide.

  She glanced up at her companion, Sir Lucien Pyne, a swarthy, cynicaltype of aristocrat, imperturbably. Then: "I had left a note foryou, Quentin," she said hurriedly. She seemed to be in a dangerouslyhigh-strung condition.

  "But I have booked a table and a box," cried Gray, with a hint ofjuvenile petulance.

  "My dear Gray," said Sir Lucien coolly, "we are men of the world--andwe do not look for consistency in womenfolk. Mrs. Irvin has decided toconsult a palmist or a hypnotist or some such occult authority beforedining with you this evening. Doubtless she seeks to learn if the playto which you propose to take her is an amusing one."

  His smile of sardonic amusement Gray found to be almost insupportable,and although Sir Lucien refrained from looking at Mrs. Irvin whilsthe spoke, it was evident enough that his words held some covertsignificance, for:

  "You know perfectly well that I have a particular reason for seeinghim," she said.

  "A woman's particular reason is a man's feeble excuse," murmured SirLucien rudely. "At least, according to a learned Arabian philosopher."

  "I was going to meet you at Prince's," said Mrs. Irvin hurriedly, andagain glancing at Gray. There was a pathetic hesitancy in her manner,the hesitancy of a weak woman who adheres to a purpose only by supremeeffort.

  "Might I ask," said Gray, "the name of the pervert you are going toconsult?"

  Again she hesitated and glanced rapidly at Sir Lucien, but he wasstaring coolly in another direction.

  "Kazmah," she replied in a low voice.

  "Kazmah!" cried Gray. "The man who sells perfume and pretends to readdreams? What an extraordinary notion. Wouldn't tomorrow do? He willsurely have shut up shop!"

  "I have been at pains to ascertain," replied Sir Lucien, "at Mrs.Irvin's express desire, that the man of mystery is still in session andwill receive her."

  Beneath the mask of nonchalance which he wore it might have beenpossible to detect excitement repressed with difficulty; and had Graybeen more composed and not obsessed with the idea that Sir Lucien haddeliberately intruded upon his plans for the evening, he could not havefailed to perceive that Mrs. Monte Irvin was feverishly preoccupied withmatters having no relation to dinner and the theatre. But his privatesuspicions grew only the more acute.

  "Then if the dinner is not off," he said, "may I come along and wait foryou?"

  "At Kazmah's?" asked Mrs. Irvin. "Certainly." She turned to Sir Lucien."Shall you wait? It isn't much use as I'm dining with Quentin."

  "If I do not intrude," replied the baronet, "I will accompany you as faras the cave of the oracle, and then bid you good night."

  The trio proceeded along old Bond Street. Quentin Gray regarded thestory of Kazmah as a very poor lie devised on the spur of the moment.If he had been less infatuated, his natural sense of dignity musthave dictated an offer to release Mrs. Irvin from her engagement. Butjealousy stimulates the worst instincts and destroys the best. Hewas determined to attach himself as closely as the old Man of theSea attached himself to Es-Sindibad, in order that the lie mightbe unmasked. Mrs. Irvin's palpable embarrassment and nervousness heascribed to her perception of his design.

  A group of shop girls and others waiting for buses rendered itimpossible for the three to keep abreast, and Gray, falling to the rear,stepped upon the foot of a little man who was walking close behind them.

  "Sorry, sir," said the man, suppressing an exclamation of pain--for thefault had been Gray's.

  Gray muttered an ungenerous acknowledgment, all anxiety to regain theside of Mrs. Irvin; for she seemed to be speaking rapidly and excitedlyto Sir Lucien.

  He recovered his place as the two turned in at a lighted doorway. Uponthe wall was a bronze plate bearing the inscription:

  KAZMAH Second Floor

  Gray fully expected Mrs. Irvin to suggest that he should return later.But without a word she began to ascend the stairs. Gray followed, SirLucien standing aside to give him precedence. On the second floor was adoor painted in Oriental fashion. It possessed neither bell nor knocker,but as one stepped upon the threshold this door opened noiselessly asif dumbly inviting the visitor to enter the square apartment discovered.This apartment was richly furnished in the Arab manner, and lighted bya fine brass lamp swung upon chains from the painted ceiling. Theintricate perforations of the lamp were inset with colored glass, andthe result was a subdued and warm illumination. Odd-looking orientalvessels, long-necked jars, jugs with tenuous spouts and squat bowlspossessing engraved and figured covers emerged from the shadows ofniches. A low divan with gaily colored mattresses extended from thedoor around one corner of the room where it terminated beside a kindof mushrabiyeh cabinet or cupboard. Beyond this cabinet was a long, lowcounter laden with statuettes of Nile gods, amulets, mummy-beads andlittle stoppered flasks of blue enamel ware. There were two glass casesfilled with other strange-looking antiquities. A faint perfume wasperceptible.

  Sir Lucien entering last of the party, the door closed behind him, andfrom the cabinet on the right of the divan a young Egyptian steppedout. He wore the customary white robe, red sash and red slippers, and atarbush, the little scarlet cap commonly called a fez, was set uponhis head. He walked to a door on the left of the counter, and slid itnoiselessly open. Bowing gravely, "The Sheikh el Kazmah awaits," hesaid, speaking with the soft intonation of a native of Upper Egypt.

  It now became evident, even to the infatuated Gray, that Mrs. Irvin waslaboring under the influence of tremendous excitement. She turned to himquickly, and
he thought that her face looked almost haggard, whilst hereyes seemed to have changed color--become lighter, although he couldnot be certain that this latter effect was not due to the peculiarillumination of the room. But when she spoke her voice was unsteady.

  "Will you see if you can find a cab," she said. "It is so difficult atnight, and my shoes will get frightfully muddy crossing Piccadilly. Ishall not be more than a few minutes." She walked through the doorway,the Egyptian standing aside as she passed. He followed her, but cameout again almost immediately, reclosed the door, and retired into thecabinet, which was evidently his private cubicle.

  Silence claimed the apartment. Sir Lucien threw himself nonchalantlyupon the divan, and took out his cigarette-case.

  "Will you have a cigarette, Gray?" he asked.

  "No thanks," replied the other, in tones of smothered hostility. Hewas ill at ease, and paced the apartment nervously. Pyne lighted acigarette, and tossed the extinguished match into a brass bowl.

  "I think," said Gray jerkily, "I shall go for a cab. Are you remaining?"

  "I am dining at the club," answered Pyne, "but I can wait until youreturn."

  "As you wish," jerked Gray. "I don't expect to be long."

  He walked rapidly to the outer door, which opened at his approach andclosed noiselessly behind him as he made his exit.