So he thundered again, and this time the door opened about six inches.

A face peered through the opening cautiously, and asked what was wanted.
"What is this ?" asked Anazeh.

"Is a mejlis held without my presence?
Since when ?" "You are too late!" The face disappeared.

Some one tried to close the door.
Anazeh's foot prevented.
"Open!" he demanded.

The butt of his rifle thundered again on the wood.
There was a babel of voices inside, followed by sudden silence.
Anazeh made a sign to Mahommed ben Hamza and me.