The Vulture's Nest
The girl had met his hot gaze steadily. Her scorn only served to inflame his fancy the more.
"I would not have you otherwise, Edith. When we leave Yakka Arik you will see the garden that I have prepared near Kashgar. I am master there"
Edith laughed, her nerves high-strung.
"Are you?" She pointed to Abbas. The Alaman had been studying them, one eye wide open. When Monsey turned, the man appeared to be as soundly asleep as before. "Aren't you called the Vulture by the natives? Captain Donovan has been looking for you."
All at once she felt very lonely, very much in need of the Englishman's presence. Her life in the world of Yakka Arik had been built around him. She could not believe that he would desert her.
"Donovan?" Monsey swore under his breath. "We will attend to him."
The sudden set to his full lips left no doubt of the sincerity of this remark, at least.
Time passed. One of the lamps went out. Abbas was snoring in earnest now. The chill that comes with the last hours of the night crept into the teakwood chamber. Monsey, the stimulus of the drug dose gone, paced the floor restlessly, pausing to fiddle with the reeking stove. Edith gave herself up to the inertia that comes with fatigue.
Quiet had settled upon the Kurgan.
To Edith, this silence was ominous of maturing events. Out of this quiet she felt that something would come to pass. Why had not Monsey tried to leave the castle while the coast was free? He must have expected to be followed. How was Abbas con-
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