"Something of a dandy," inadequately described the repellent
sensuousness of this veritable potentate, who could contrive to
invest a sitting room in a modern hotel with the atmosphere of a
secret Eastern household. To consider Ormuz Khan in connection
with matters of international finance was wildly incongruous,
while the manicurist incident indicated an inherent cruelty only
possible in one of Oriental race.
In a mood of complete mental detachment Paul Harley found himself
looking again into those black, inscrutable eyes and trying to
analyze the elusive quality of their regard. They were unlike any
eyes that he had met with. It were folly to count their possessor
a negligible quantity. Nevertheless, it was difficult, because of
the fellow's scented effeminacy, to believe that women could find
him attractive. But Harley, wise in worldly lore, perceived that
the mystery surrounding Ormuz Khan must make a strong appeal to a
certain type of female mind. He was forced to admit that some
women, indeed many, would be as clay in the hands of the man who
possessed those long-lashed, magnetic eyes.
He thought of the pretty manicurist. Mortification he had read in
her white face, and pain; but no anger. Yes, Ormuz Khan was
dangerous.
In what respect was he dangerous?
"Phil Abingdon!" Harley whispered, and, in the act of breathing
the name, laughed at his own folly.
In the name of reason, he mused, what could she find to interest
her in a man of Ormuz Khan's type? He was prepared to learn that
there was a mystic side to her personality--a phase in her
character which would be responsive to the outre and romantic.
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