fear robbed me of every vestige of common sense. Fortunately, beyond trembling till my teeth chattered, I attempted nothing.
A few yards farther over the stone floor, and we were pushed into a stall, and another leather portière closed us in. This was the end of our journey. The front of the stall was covered with lattice-work, and through its holes we could look down into a cavernous square arena, dark, save for a big charcoal fire smouldering in the middle. Around the arena ran an arcade, and under it we presently made out the reclining forms of many dervishes of different orders, and numerous Mohammedan pilgrims, quietly smoking. The stall on our right and left must also have been occupied, for we heard the scuffling of feet on the floor, and then silence.
I really cannot say how long we sat on our low stools, looking down on the weird scene beneath us, before the oppressive silence was broken by a fearfully plaintive sound which seemed to come from far away, and which, for lack of a better word, I shall have to call music. On and on it went, rising and falling, monotonous, dull, and melancholy. It penetrated the whole place, seeming to drug the atmosphere, till one felt as if any phantasmagoria of the brain might be real.
It had another effect, this dreadful, insistent sound. After a few minutes a desire to shriek,
