Through two arched doorways, to right
and left, entered a silent file of the huge, half-naked Maghrabi
men. All were unarmed; but the muscles of their heavy shoulders, the
gorilla-like dangle of their steel-fingered hands produced an effect
more ominous even than the gleam of simitars in the dim cressets'
light would have been.
Along the walls these black barbarians disposed themselves, a full
hundred or more, saying nothing, seeming to see nothing, mere human
automata. Bohannan, seated cross-legged between Captain Alden and the
Master, swore an oath.
"What are these infernal murderers here for?" growled he. "Ask the
Sheik, will you? I thought you and he had eaten salt together! If this
isn't a trap, it looks too damned much like it to be much of a picnic!
Faith, this is a Hell of a party!"
"Silence, sir!" commanded the Master; while Leclair, at his other
side, cast a look of anger at the Celt. "Diplomacy requires that we
consider these men as a guard of honor. Pay no attention to them,
anybody! Any sign of hesitation now, or fear, may be suicide.
Remember, we are dealing with Orientals. The 'grand manner' is what
counts with them. I advise every man who has tobacco, to light a
cigarette and look indifferent.
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