now struck her with force; she started at the thought, then uttered a low, rippling laugh of satisfaction. For Pascherette, in her cunning scheme of double-dealing, had played into her lady’s hands to an extent unhoped for by Dolores.

“Milo, the wolves are ready to tear,” she said. “And they shall tear — not me, but themselves! Didst note the three strangers? Even they shall help more than I had hoped.” She stepped up behind the altar, and as she waited for Milo’s assistance in climbing to the secret entrance to the great chamber she asked:

“Thy blow-pipe, hast forgotten its use.”

“As soon forget the use of my fingers, Sultana!” replied the giant, permitting a grim smile to wrinkle his face for an instant.