Clubs, athletics, gambling--he grumbled
something savage as his thoughts turned to such trivialities. And into
his aquiline face came something the look of an eagle, trapped, there
in that eagle's nest of his.
Suddenly the Master of _Niss'rosh_ came to a decision. He returned,
clapped his hands thrice, sharply, and waited. Almost at once a door
opened at the southeast corner of the room--where the observatory
connected with the stairway leading down to the Master's apartment on
the top floor of the building--and a vague figure of a man appeared.
The light was steadily fading, so that this man could by no means be
clearly distinguished. But one could see that he wore clothing quite
as conventional as his master's. Still, no more than the Master did he
appear one of life's commonplaces. Lean, brown, dry, with a hawk-nose
and glinting eyes, surely he had come from far, strange places.
"Rrisa!" the Master spoke sharply, flinging the man's name at him with
the exasperation of overtensed nerves.
"_M'alme?_" (Master?) replied the other.
"Bring the evening food and drink," commanded the Master, in excellent
Arabic, guttural and elusive with strange hiatuses of breath.
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