would not be for long. For—I have never trusted a living enemy—and I have never feared a dead one!”
Koom Khan gave a slight start, but controlled himself almost immediately, and said, with the utmost, arrogant nonchalance:
“Death is not such a savory mouthful that one should gulp it down whole. I have changed my mind, my lord. I shall hereafter be thy friend.”
And then, with a disconcertingly sudden swing to deep seriousness, he went on:
“Al Nakia! Fools—such fools as I—lose their way amongst the pitfalls of ambition. The pathway that is straight and clear is hidden to fools—such fools as I—by the mud of our greed, by the tangled undergrowth of our wayfaring desires. A handful of dust blinded my eyes to the signal whose meaning I know well.”
“What signal?” asked Hector, rather embarrassed, and quite at a loss what to make of the other's almost tragic earnestness of gesture and expression.
“The prophecy, my lord! I set the flame of my sinful, foolish, greedy ambition against the words of the ancient prophecy! I forgot that thou, my lord, art the 'Expected One,' that thou camest out of the West, the blade in thy hand—the blade that will mate with the other blade, whenever the time is propitious and Allah gives the word!”
And Hector suppressed an impatient exclamation as, nearly automatically, he drew the sword from his waist shawl and tended it, hilt foremost, for Koom Khan to touch with his lips and swear fealty on, as
