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 realised the state of affairs he would not have been indifferent to the disgrace that must be his, should his wife's liaison become public property. It is unlikely that he had any suspicion of Slêman, but, if he had, it would never occur to him that any man would have the courage to do more than carry on a clandestine intrigue, and of that he suspected Maimûnah had already been guilty. Least of all would it seem possible for a foreigner supported by a dozen followers to brave the power and resentment of well nigh the greatest chief of a powerful State.

In this, however, he was misled by the suave manners of the quiet stranger.

Slêman's suit prospered, and he was not satisfied to continue indefinitely filling the rôle of false friend to Iskander and fearful lover to his wife. However much he despised the man, however easily he found he could profit by Iskander's indifference, he meant to play a bolder game and make Maimûnah his own at all hazards if she were prepared to face the risk.

Her courage was equal to his own (for failure meant probably death to her as to him), and one night, while Iskander lay in his boat dreaming over his opium-pipe, the stranger was carrying off his royal spouse within earshot, almost from under his very eyes.