They looked at one another, the girl and the man, oblivious to the appeal of hand and voice which the old man in the doorway was offering.
"I think you are very brave," said the giri, "or else very foolish. You do not know our Kieff people."
"I know them very well," he said grimly.
"It was equally foolish of me to interfere," she said quickly, "and I ought not to blame you. They killed my horse."
She pointed to the dead horse lying before the doorway.
"Where was your servant?" he asked, but she made no reply. He repeated the question, thinking she had not heard and being at some loss for any other topic of conversation.
"Let us go out," she said, ignoring the query, "we are safe now."
He was following her when he remembered the packet in his pocket and turned to the old man.
"Here is your"
"No, no, no, keep it," whispered Israel Kensky. "They may come again to-night! My daughter told them that I was carrying it. May she roast!"
"What is it?" asked Malcolm curiously.
The old man's lips parted in a toothless smile.
"It is the 'Book of All-Power!'"
He blinked up at Malcolm, peering into his face
