." "True!" murmured Babalatchi, regretfully.

"To you life is darkness." "No! Flame!" exclaimed the old Arab, half rising, then falling back in his seat.

"The flame of that last day! I see it yet--the last thing I saw! And I hear the noise of the rent earth--when they all died.

And I live to be the plaything of a crafty one," he added, with inconsequential peevishness.
"You are my master still," said Babalatchi, humbly.

"You are very wise--and in your wisdom you shall speak to Syed Abdulla when he comes here--you shall speak to him as I advised, I, your servant, the man who fought at your right hand for many years.