From near the top, the Master, glancing down, could see the white-robed mass of the Arabs, the small, compact group of his own men; and, behind them all, the dim, black lines of the stranglers.

But already the Olema was gesturing for him to enter the highest of the galleries.
Into this, carved in the virgin metal, both made their way.

The torchlight flung strange, wavering gleams on smooth walls niched with dark embrasures.

At the further end of the passage, the Olema stopped.
"Here is a new trophy, just added to all that Allah hath placed in our hands," said he, gravely.

"There are some three-and-twenty places yet left, to fill.