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 corporation of which the latter was the head, certain extensive land development concessions.

But Tollemache had shaken his head.

“I won't marry the girl until I have at least seen her,” he had said.

“Heaven-Born,” the Babu, who had been present at the interview, had exclaimed, “she is like the moon on the fourteenth day! She is a precious casket filled with the arts of coquetry! She is …”

“I don't trust your taste in feminine beauty, dear boy,” Tollemache had smiled; and when Mr. Preserved Higgins had made some sardonic remarks to the effect that, judging from his experiences with Gwendolyn de Vere, Tollemache could do worse than accept somebody else's opinions in affairs of the heart, the younger man had replied that this was just the reason why he was going to be doubly careful in the future.

“I am going to take a look at her,” he had repeated, stubbornly.

“Impossible!” Mr. Higgins had exclaimed, afraid that Tollemache, if he went to Tamerlanistan, might see his brother and recognize him.

“Impossible—rot! I speak Persian like a native. I can easily go to the capital, see the princess—somehow—and incidentally find out a few things about the military situation.”

Finally, after he had raged and threatened for half an hour, but had found Tollemache obdurate, Mr. Preserved Higgins had agreed. But he had made Tollemache promise that, under no conditions, would