[Gutenberg 36914] • A Son of the Sahara

**"I have owned a hundred women!" he answered defiantly.**

The girl recoiled as from a blow. Was this man who paraded his conquests before her the same one who had feasted so freely on her lips that moonlit night in Grand Canary?

She was his prisoner now. He had stolen her and brought her to his stronghold in the desert. Her father was also a captive. Pansy Langham's life had crashed in ruins about her. What good were her millions now? The mask had been removed. Raoul LeBreton was the Sultan Casim El Ammeh! -- a Mohammedan!

And yet she knew she wanted to no man's kisses by his. Love for him consumed her, but race and religion stood between them.

Little did she guess that the Arab had foreseen this minute, that he had trailed her father, Sir George, for fifteen years. The Englishman, a captain at the time, had killed his father. Casim El Ammeh had not forgotten. Revenge was his at last!

He had intended having his way with her and then selling her as a slave -- a fate more cruel than a white man could conceive. But love -- an emotion an Arab scoffs at -- had come to thwart him. Was he to forego his oath of an eye for an eye, or open the doors of his harem and seek forgetfulness?