The voice modulated into crisp morning
inflections:--
"You are going far, Excellency?" She knew him! And the slave who
grinned and grinned and never spoke--what was _he_? She seemed to follow
Pobloff's thought.
"Hamet is dumb. His tongue was cut at the same time he lost his nose. It
all happened at the siege of Yerkutz."
Pobloff at last found words.
"Poor fellow!" he said sympathetically, and then forgot all about the
mutilated one. "You are welcome to this compartment," he assured her in
his oiliest manner. "What surprises me is that I did not see your Serene
Highness when we left Balak." She started at the title that he bestowed
upon her, and he inwardly chuckled. Clever dog, Pobloff, clever dog! Her
eyes were brilliant despite obstructing veils.
"I was _en route_ to Balak yesterday, but my servant became ill and I
stopped over night at Kerb." Pobloff was entranced. She was undoubtedly
a young dame of noble birth and her freedom, the freedom of a European
woman, delighted him. It also puzzled.
"How is it--?" he asked.
But they had begun that fearful descent, at once the despair and delight
of engineers.
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