crew outside; and she was now permitted the saving grace of remembrance. She gave him her hand, and allowed him to place it upon his head, always his favorite means of expression when she followed an outburst of rage with contrition; and in softer tone she begged for an answer to the riddle that had been left with her.

“Come, Sultana,” Milo said, once more laying a hand on her shoulder, this time without resentment from her. “Thy father, the Red Chief, left much to be told; I will tell thee all, but not now. Patience, princess,” he pleaded, catching the warning glint in her eyes, “dost thou hear nothing? Listen attentively — no, not in here, outside — bend thy ear to this tapestry; ‘tis before a cunning sounding stone through which voices may well be heard on the cliffside. Listen.”