Sleep won upon him, dulled the excitements of the past twenty-four hours, sank him into oblivion.

His deep, regular breathing sounded in the gloom of the cabin that contained the Great Pearl Star, the Myzab, the sacred Black Stone of infinite veneration.
An hour he slept.

On, on roared _Nissr_, swaying, rising, falling a little as she hurled herself through the Arabian night toward the unknown Bara Jannati Shahr, hidden behind the Iron Mountains of mystery as yet unseen by any unbelieving eye.
Peace, all seemed peace, for one dark hour.
But as the hour ended, a shadow fell along the narrow gallery outside the cabin window.

A silent shadow it was, that crept, paused, came on again.

And now in the dark, had there been any eye to see, the shadow would have been identified as a barefoot man, lithe, alert, moving silently forward with the soundless stealth of an Arab versed in the art of _asar_, or man-stalking.
To the Master's window this shadow crept, a half-invisible thing in the gloom.