"Why?"
"Because Sen-tur has sinned grievously, and sinning, will surely sin again. He hath tasted the blood of a slave, he liked the taste and will wish to drink again."
"But will it not grieve thee to see Sen-tur die?"
"More than thou canst conceive," she replied earnestly. "Sen-tur is my only friend, but it would grieve me even more if thou didst leave my presence now with evil thoughts of me in thy heart."
She looked divinely pretty, this exquisite product of a strange and mystic land: quaint as one of those images on ancient tombs, dainty as the lotus blossom and roses in her garden. She was—my reason told me—flirting outrageously, desperately, with Hugh, even to the extent of endangering the life of innocent Sen-tur. Had she but known him as I did—the scientific enthusiast, blind even to such beauty as hers—she would have realised how she was wasting her time. In spite of her pretty speech, her sweet, appealing look, Hugh was singularly unresponsive, and it was in a very matter-of-fact, prosy way that he picked up the small dagger and gave it back to her.
"Thou must punish Sen-tur in the way thou thinkest fit. I am no good hand at killing beasts."
"Thou dost confine thyself to killing women then," she retorted with one of those sudden changes in her mood, which to me were so puzzling.
"Thou art too young to understand the purport of thy words," rejoined Hugh, who had become very pale. "The motive which led me to kill Kesh-ta, thy slave, in the judgment-hall of Men-ne-fer, was one for which I have not to answer to any one, least of all to thee. But the hour is late, Princess; wilt deign to allow me to follow my counsellor? He will wish to visit the holy
