soft as those of a fawn, were absolutely inscrutable; her features in repose held the immutable expression of the Sphynx. When she smiled sunbeams danced in her eyes and a girlish dimple showed in her chin. But she rarely smiled. The composed, serious,
languorous expression dominated her exquisite face.

The girl was richly dressed. Her silken gown was of finest texture; pearls of rare size were twined in her dark hair; a golden serpent whose every scale was a lustrous diamond spanned her waist; upon her breast glittered a solitary blood-red ruby of historic fame, known in song and story for generations.

For this maiden was Maie, only daughter of Agahr, Grand Vizier to the Lion of Mekran and to his father before him--the terrible Keedar Khan.

Next to Burah himself in rank, virtually directing all the civic affairs of the nation, responsible to none save his stern master, Agahr was indeed a personage of vast importance in the realm. The sirdars of the nine fighting tribes of Baluchi, the main support of the
Khan, might look upon the vizier scornfully; but they obeyed his laws and avoided any interference with his civic functions.Maie was the daughter of Agahr’s old age, his only companion and his constant delight. To her he confided many of the problems that from time to time confronted him, and often a quiet word from the girl’s lips showed him the matter in a new light and guided him in his actions. The old man had discovered a store of common sense in the dainty head of his daughter; the inscrutable velvet eyes were wells of wisdom from which he drew solace and counsel in all difficulties.

On the evening of this eventful day came Agahr to the gallery where his daughter reclined. And as he sat beside her she turned her eyes upon his face and seemed to read it clearly.

“The Khan is worse,” said she, quietly.

“He is dying,” answered the vizier. “The Persian physician has come from Kelat, and he says there is no hope.”

“We shall be making history soon,” remarked the girl, in soft tones. “The Khan will pass away, and Kasam is here.”

The vizier moved uneasily on his seat.

“Kasam is here; yes,” said he. “But no one knows the secret save us. No one knows who our Kasam is.”

“They will know soon,” returned the girl in a calm, expressionless voice. “Our cousin Kasam is rightful heir to the throne--when the Lion’s 

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