Chapter 6. El Numer's knife hit the floor with a rattle, and he cried out briefly before his head rattled off the floor, stunning him momentarily.

When he recovered himself an instant later, he was faced down on the ground with his right arm pinned painfully behind him, and a small weight, which he could not account for resting on his back.

His host barely seemed to register that anything had happened, but when he turned back,

he had only one drink in his hand, and a rueful smile upon his face.

The wealthy young man picked up El Numer's dagger and shook his head.

"'Not the best beginning,' he said.

"'Effendi, please!' El Numer pleaded as if for his life.

"'Spaire this impudent dog!

"'Oh, stop blubbering El Numer, if that is your name at all,' Fenwick said,

settling comfortably into a chair.

"'I wasn't about to stab you.

"'Curtecy you did not seem inclined to extend to me a moment ago.'

"'Elnumer bit his tongue to keep from crying out as his arm was twisted harder by the unseen force.

"'His left fist pounded upon the floor in an involuntary reaction.

"'Please, Fenwick Offendi!' he cried.

"'Release me, I beg of you!

I wished only to learn what news you might have of our mutual friend, Maxwell Falcone.'

"'Behiti?' Fenwick said quietly.

"'That is enough. Let him up.'

The pain in El Numer's arm ceased, and he was astonished to find a person stepping off of his back,

and even more surprised when he glanced up and learned that his tormentor had been a

beautiful young Egyptian girl, who seemed more than ready to hurt him much worse than she had,

...