The House of the Falcon
preyed upon by Turk, Alaman, and Buddhist"
"Why?"
"They worship the sun."
Edith was silent, thinking of the ray of light that had descended upon the priest, and the praying throngs that had raised their eyes to it.
"The hadji is their saint, Edith. And they have carefully concealed the location of his temple from their enemies"
She saw that while he spoke he was watching the folds of the heavy curtain that hung behind the vapor. Seeing this, she felt an impulse to turn and flee from the mosque that seemed to be closing in upon them.
"We know—both of us, now," he went on quietly, "the secret of Yakka Arik. And every fanatical mullah from Constantinople to Kashgar would willingly lose his fingers and eyes if he could help tear down this temple of the sun—older than San Sophia, and a thorn in the side of Moslem political power"
The curtain folds swayed, as if a breath of air had stirred them. The voices outside the entrance quickened and Edith had the fleeting sensation of being encompassed in a trap. She pressed close to the man, who smiled down at her.
"We'll make it, yet. Come, Edith."
The voices of the worshipers in the court were no longer to be heard. Edith could not help glancing behind her as they started from the shelter of the pillars. She had fancied that the curtains had parted, drawn back by a hand from within.
"How did you follow me?" she asked gently, wishing to hear from his own lips why he had sought her.
"Aravang. Don't fear that he will give you away. He lost track of you and became worried. He hunted
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