THE SHEIK

A Novel

by E. M. HULL

1921

CHAPTER I

"Are you coming in to watch the dancing, Lady Conway?"

"I most decidedly am not. I thoroughly disapprove of the expedition ofwhich this dance is the inauguration. I consider that even bycontemplating such a tour alone into the desert with no chaperon orattendant of her own sex, with only native camel drivers and servants, Diana Mayo is behaving with a recklessness and impropriety that iscalculated to cast a slur not only on her own reputation, but also onthe prestige of her country. I blush to think of it. We English cannotbe too careful of our behavior abroad. No opportunity is slight enoughfor our continental neighbours to cast stones, and this opportunity isvery far from being slight. It is the maddest piece of unprincipledfolly I have ever heard of. "

"Oh, come, Lady Conway! It's not quite so bad as all that. It iscertainly unconventional and--er--probably not quite wise, but rememberMiss Mayo's unusual upbringing----"

"I am not forgetting her unusual upbringing, " interrupted Lady Conway. "It has been deplorable. But nothing can excuse this scandalousescapade. I knew her mother years ago, and I took it upon myself toexpostulate both with Diana and her brother, but Sir Aubrey is hedgedaround with an egotistical complacency that would defy a pickaxe topenetrate. According to him a Mayo is beyond criticism, and hissister's reputation her own to deal with. The girl herself seemed, frankly, not to understand the seriousness of her position, and wasvery flippant and not a little rude. I wash my hands of the wholeaffair, and will certainly not countenance to-night's entertainment byappearing at it. I have already warned the manager that if the noise iskept up beyond a reasonable hour I shall leave the hotel to-morrow. "And, drawing her wrap around her with a little shudder, Lady Conwaystalked majestically across the wide verandah of the Biskra Hotel. 

The two men left standing by the open French window that led into thehotel ballroom looked at each other and smiled. 

"Some peroration, " said one with a marked American accent. "That's theway scandal's made, I guess. "

"Scandal be hanged! There's never been a breath of scandal attached toDiana Mayo's name. I've known the child since she was a baby. Rumlittle cuss she was, too. Confound that old woman! She would wreck thereputation of the Archangel Gabriel if he came down to earth, let alonethat of a mere human girl. "

"Not a very human girl, " laughed the American. "She was sure meant fora boy and changed at the last moment. She looks like a boy inpetticoats, a damned pretty boy--and a damned haughty one, " he added, chuckling. "I overheard her this morning, in the garden, makingmincemeat of a French officer. "

The Englishman laughed. 

"Been making love to her, I expect. A thing she does not understand andwon't tolerate. She's the coldest little fish in the world, without anidea in her head beyond sport and travel. Clever, though, and plucky asthey are made. I don't think she knows the meaning of the word fear. "

"There's a queer streak in the family, isn't there? I heard somebodyyapping about it the other night. Father was mad and blew his brainsout, so I was told. "

The Englishman shrugged his shoulders. 

"You can call it mad, if you like, " he said slowly. "I live near theMayos' in England, and happen to know the story. Sir John Mayo waspassionately devoted to his wife; after twenty years of married lifethey were still lovers. Then this girl was born, and the mother died. Two hours afterwards her husband shot himself, leaving the baby in thesole care of her brother, who was just nineteen, and as lazy and asselfish then as he is now. The problem of bringing up a girl child wastoo much trouble to be solved, so he settled the difficulty by treatingher as if she was a boy. The result is what you see. "

They moved nearer to the open window, looking into the brilliantly litballroom, already filled with gaily chattering people. On a slightlyraised platform at one end of the room the host and hostess werereceiving their guests. The brother and sister were singularly unlike. Sir Aubrey Mayo was very tall and thin, the pallor of his faceaccentuated by the blackness of his smoothly brushed hair and heavyblack moustache. His attitude was a mixture of well-bred courtesy andlanguid boredom. He seemed too tired even to keep the single eye-glassthat he wore in position, for it dropped continually. By contrast thegirl at his side appeared vividly alive. She was only of medium heightand very slender, standing erect with the easy, vigorous carriage of anathletic boy, her small head poised proudly. Her scornful mouth andfirm chin showed plainly an obstinate determination, and her deep blueeyes were unusually clear and steady. The long, curling black lashesthat shaded her eyes and the dark eyebrows were a foil to the thickcrop of loose, red-gold curls that she wore short, clubbed about herears. 

"The result is worth seeing, " said the American admiringly, referringto his companion's last remark. 

A third and younger man joined them. 

"Hallo, Arbuthnot. You're late. The divinity is ten deep in would-bepartners already. "

A dull red crept into the young man's face, and he jerked his headangrily. 

"I got waylaid by Lady Conway--poisonous old woman! She had a greatdeal to say on the subject of Miss Mayo and her trip. She ought to begagged. I thought she was going on talking all night, so I fairlybolted in the end. All the same, I agree with her on one point. Whycan't that lazy ass Mayo go with his sister?"

Nobody seemed to be able to give an answer. The band had begun playing, and the floor was covered with laughing, talking couples. 

Sir Aubrey Mayo had moved away, and his sister was left standing withseveral men, who waited, programme in hand, but she waved them awaywith a little smile and a resolute shake of her head. 

"Things seem to be getting a hustle on, " said the American. 

"Are you going to try your luck?" asked the elder of the twoEnglishmen. 

The American bit the end off a cigar with a little smile. 

"I sure am not. The haughty young lady turned me down as a dancer veryearly in our acquaintance. I don't blame her, " he added, with a ruefullaugh, "but her extreme candour still rankles. She told me quiteplainly that she had no use for an American who could neither ride nordance. I did intimate to her, very gently, that there were a few littleopenings in the States for men beside cattle-punching and cabaretdancing, but she froze me with a look, and I faded away. No, SirEgotistical Complacency will be having some bridge later on, which willsuit me much better. He's not a bad chap underneath if you can swallowhis peculiarities, and he's a sportsman. I like to play with him. Hedoesn't care a durn if he wins or loses. "

"It doesn't matter when you have a banking account the size of his, "said Arbuthnot. "Personally, I find dancing more amusing and lessexpensive. I shall go and take my chance with our hostess. "

His eyes turned rather eagerly towards the end of the room where thegirl was standing alone, straight and slim, the light from anelectrolier gilding the thick bright curls framing her beautiful, haughty little face. She was staring down at the dancers with an absentexpression in her eyes, as if her thoughts were far away from thecrowded ballroom. 

The American pushed Arbuthnot forward with a little laugh. 

"Run along, foolish moth, and get your poor little wings singed. Whenthe cruel fair has done trampling on you I'll come right along and mopup the remains. If, on the other hand, your temerity meets with thesuccess it deserves, we can celebrate suitably later on. " And, linkinghis arm in his friend's, he drew him away to the card-room. 

Arbuthnot went through the window and worked slowly round the room, hugging the wall, evading dancers, and threading his way through groupsof chattering men and women of all nationalities. He came at last tothe raised dais on which Diana Mayo was still standing, and climbed upthe few steps to her side. 

"This is luck, Miss Mayo, " he said, with an assurance that he was farfrom feeling. "Am I really fortunate enough to find you without apartner?"

She turned to him slowly, with a little crease growing between herarched eyebrows, as if his coming were inopportune and she resented theinterruption to her thoughts, and then she smiled quite frankly. 

"I said I would not dance until everybody was started, " she said ratherdoubtfully, looking over the crowded floor. 

"They are all dancing. You've done your duty nobly. Don't miss thisripping tune, " he urged persuasively. 

She hesitated, tapping her programme-pencil against her teeth. 

"I refused a lot of men, " she said, with a grimace. Then she laughedsuddenly. "Come along, then. I am noted for my bad manners. This willonly be one extra sin. "

Arbuthnot danced well, but with the girl in his arms he seemed suddenlytongue-tied. They swung round the room several times, then haltedsimultaneously beside an open window and went out into the garden ofthe hotel, sitting down on a wicker seat under a gaudy Japanese hanginglantern. The band was still playing, and for the moment the garden wasempty, lit faintly by coloured lanterns, festooned from the palm trees, and twinkling lights outlining the winding paths. 

Arbuthnot leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. 

"I think you are the most perfect dancer I have ever met, " he said alittle breathlessly. 

Miss Mayo looked at him seriously, without a trace ofself-consciousness. 

"It is very easy to dance if you have a musical ear, and if you havebeen in the habit of making your body do what you want. So few peopleseem to be trained to make their limbs obey them. Mine have had to doas they were told since I was a small child, " she answered calmly. 

The unexpectedness of the reply acted as a silencer on Arbuthnot for afew minutes, and the girl beside him seemed in no hurry to break thesilence. The dance was over and the empty garden was thronged for alittle time. Then the dancers drifted back into the hotel as the bandstarted again. 

"It's rather jolly here in the garden, " Arbuthnot said tentatively. Hisheart was pounding with unusual rapidity, and his eyes, that he keptfixed on his own clasped hands, had a hungry look growing in them. 

"You mean that, you want to sit out this dance with me?" she said witha boyish directness that somewhat nonplussed him. 

"Yes, " he stammered rather foolishly. 

She held her programme up to the light of the lantern. "I promised thisone to Arthur Conway. We quarrel every time we meet. I cannot think whyhe asked me; he disapproves of me even more than his mother does--suchan interfering old lady. He will be overjoyed to be let off. And Idon't want to dance to-night. I am looking forward so tremendously toto-morrow. I shall stay and talk to you, but you must give me acigarette to keep me in a good temper. "

His hand shook a little as he held the match for her. "Are you reallydetermined to go through with this tour?"

She stared at him in surprise. "Why not? My arrangements have been madesome time. Why should I change my mind at the last moment?"

"Why does your brother let you go alone? Why doesn't he go with you?Oh, I haven't any right to ask, but I do ask, " he broke out vehemently. 

She shrugged her shoulders with a little laugh. "We fell out, Aubreyand I. He wanted to go to America. I wanted a trip into the desert. Wequarrelled for two whole days and half one night, and then wecompromised. I should have my desert tour, and Aubrey should go to NewYork; and to mark his brotherly appreciation of my gracious promise tofollow him to the States without fail at the end of a month he hasconsented to grace my caravan for the first stage, and dismiss me on myway with his blessing. It annoyed him so enormously that he could notorder me to go with him, this being the first time in our wanderingsthat our inclinations have not jumped in the same direction. I came ofage a few months ago, and, in future, I can do as I please. Not that Ihave ever done anything else, " she conceded, with another laugh, "because Aubrey's ways have been my ways until now. "

"But for the sake of one month! What difference could it make to him?"he asked in astonishment. 

"That's Aubrey, " replied Miss Mayo drily. 

"It isn't safe, " persisted Arbuthnot. 

She flicked the ash from her cigarette carelessly. "I don't agree withyou. I don't know why everybody is making such a fuss about it. Plentyof other women have travelled in much wilder country than this desert. "

He looked at her curiously. She seemed to be totally unaware that itwas her youth and her beauty that made all the danger of theexpedition. He fell back on the easier excuse. 

"There seems to be unrest amongst some of the tribes. There have been alot of rumours lately, " he said seriously. 

She made a little movement of impatience. "Oh, that's what they alwaystell you when they want to put obstacles in your way. The authoritieshave already dangled that bogey in front of me. I asked for facts andthey only gave me generalities. I asked definitely if they had anypower to stop me. They said they had not, but strongly advised me notto make the attempt. I said I should go, unless the French Governmentarrested me.... Why not? I am not afraid. I don't admit that there isanything to be afraid of. I don't believe a word about the tribes beingrestless. Arabs are always moving about, aren't they? I have anexcellent caravan leader, whom even the authorities vouch for, and Ishall be armed. I am perfectly able to take care of myself. I can shootstraight and I am used to camping. Besides, I have given my word toAubrey to be in Oran in a month, and I can't get very far away in thattime. "

There was an obstinate ring in her voice, and when she stopped speakinghe sat silent, consumed with anxiety, obsessed with the loveliness ofher, and tormented with the desire to tell her so. Then he turned toher suddenly, and his face was very white. "Miss Mayo--Diana--put offthis trip only for a little, and give me the right to go with you. Ilove you. I want you for my wife more than anything on earth. I shan'talways be a penniless subaltern. One of these days I shall be able togive you a position that is worthy of you; no, nothing could be that, but one at least that I am not ashamed to offer to you. We've been verygood friends; you know all about me. I'll give my whole life to makeyou happy. The world has been a different place to me since you cameinto it. I can't get away from you. You are in my thoughts night andday. I love you; I want you. My God, Diana! Beauty like yours drives aman mad!"

"Is beauty all that a man wants in his wife?" she asked, with a kind ofcold wonder in her voice. "Brains and a sound body seem much moresensible requirements to me. "

"But when a woman has all three, as you have, Diana, " he whisperedardently, his hands closing over the slim ones lying in her lap. 

But with a strength that seemed impossible for their smallness shedisengaged them from his grasp. "Please stop. I am sorry. We have beengood friends, and it has never occurred to me that there could beanything beyond that. I never thought that you might love me. I neverthought of you in that way at all, I don't understand it. When God mademe He omitted to give me a heart. I have never loved any one in mylife. My brother and I have tolerated each other, but there has neverbeen any affection between us. Would it be likely? Put yourself inAubrey's place. Imagine a young man of nineteen, with a cold, reservednature, being burdened with the care of a baby sister, thrust into hishands unwanted and unexpected. Was it likely that he would have anyaffection for me? I never wanted it. I was born with the same coldnature as his. I was brought up as a boy, my training was hard. Emotionand affection have been barred out of my life. I simply don't know whatthey mean. I don't want to know. I am very content with my life as itis. Marriage for a woman means the end of independence, that is, marriage with a man who is a man, in spite of all that the most modernwoman may say. I have never obeyed any one in my life; I do not wish totry the experiment. I am very sorry to have hurt you. You've been asplendid pal, but that side of life does not exist for me. If I hadthought for one moment that my friendship was going to hurt you I neednot have let you become so intimate, but I did not think, because it isa subject that I never think of. A man to me is just a companion withwhom I ride or shoot or fish; a pal, a comrade, and that's just allthere is to it. God made me a woman. Why, only He knows. "

Her quiet, even voice stopped. There had been a tone of cold sincerityin it that Arbuthnot could not help but recognise. She meant everythingthat she said. She said no more than the truth. Her reputation forcomplete indifference to admiration and her unvarying attitude towardsmen were as well known as her dauntless courage and obstinatedetermination. With Sir Aubrey Mayo she behaved like a younger brother, and as such entertained his friends. She was popular with everybody, even with the mothers of marriageable daughters, for, in spite of herwealth and beauty, her notorious peculiarities made her negligible as arival to plainer and less well-dowered girls. 

Arbuthnot sat in silence. It was hardly likely, he thought bitterly, that he should succeed where other and better men had failed. He hadbeen a fool to succumb to the temptation that had been too hard for himto resist. He knew her well enough to know beforehand what her answerwould be. The very real fear for her safety that the thought of thecoming expedition gave him, her nearness in the mystery of the Easternnight, the lights, the music, had all combined to rush to his lipswords that in a saner moment would never have passed them. He lovedher, he would love her always, but he knew that his love was ashopeless as it was undying. But it was men who were men whom she wantedfor her friends, so he must take his medicine like a man. 

"May I still be the pal, Diana?" he said quietly. 

She looked at him a moment, but in the dim light of the hanginglanterns his eyes were steady under hers, and she held out her handfrankly. "Gladly, " she said candidly. "I have hosts of acquaintances, but very few friends. We are always travelling, Aubrey and I, and wenever seem to have time to make friends. We rarely stay as long in oneplace as we have stayed in Biskra. In England they call us very badneighbours, we are so seldom there. We generally go home for threemonths in the winter for the hunting, but the rest of the year wewander on the face of the globe. "

He held her slender fingers gripped in his for a moment, smothering aninsane desire to press them to his lips, which he knew would be fatalto the newly accorded friendship, and then let them go. Miss Mayocontinued sitting quietly beside him. She was in no way disturbed bywhat had happened. She had taken him literally at his word, and wastreating him as the pal he had asked to be. It no more occurred to herthat she might relieve him of her society than it occurred to her thather continued presence might be distressing to him. She was totallyunembarrassed and completely un-self-conscious. And as they sat silent, her thoughts far away in the desert, and his full of vain longings andregrets, a man's low voice rose in the stillness of the night. "_Palehands I loved beside the Shalimar. Where are you now? Who lies beneathyour spell_?" he sang in a passionate, vibrating baritone. He wassinging in English, and yet the almost indefinite slurring from note tonote was strangely un-English. Diana Mayo leaned forward, her headraised, listening intently, with shining eyes. The voice seemed to comefrom the dark shadows at the end of the garden, or it might have beenfurther away out in the road beyond the cactus hedge. The singer sangslowly, his voice lingering caressingly on the words; the last versedying away softly and clearly, almost imperceptibly fading intosilence. 

For a moment there was utter stillness, then Diana lay back with alittle sigh. "The Kashmiri Song. It makes me think of India. I heard aman sing it in Kashmere last year, but not like that. What a wonderfulvoice! I wonder who it is?"

Arbuthnot looked at her curiously, surprised at the sudden ring ofinterest in her tone, and the sudden animation of her face. 

"You say you have no emotion in your nature, and yet that unknown man'ssinging has stirred you deeply. How do you reconcile the two?" heasked, almost angrily. 

"Is an appreciation of the beautiful emotion?" she challenged, withuplifted eyes. "Surely not. Music, art, nature, everything beautifulappeals to me. But there is nothing emotional in that. It is only thatI prefer beautiful things to ugly ones. For that reason even prettyclothes appeal to me, " she added, laughing. 

"You are the best-dressed woman in Biskra, " he acceded. "But is notthat a concession to the womanly feelings that you despise?"

"Not at all. To take an interest in one's clothes is not an exclusivelyfeminine vice. I like pretty dresses. I admit to spending some time inthinking of colour schemes to go with my horrible hair, but I assureyou that my dressmaker has an easier life than Aubrey's tailor. "

She sat silent, hoping that the singer might not have gone, but therewas no sound except a cicada chirping near her. She swung round in herchair, looking in the direction from which it came. "Listen to him. Jolly little chap! They are the first things I listen for when I get toPort Said. They mean the East to me. "

"Maddening little beasts!" said Arbuthnot irritably. 

"They are going to be very friendly little beasts to me during the nextfour weeks.... You don't know what this trip means to me. I like wildplaces. The happiest times of my life have been spent camping inAmerica and India, and I have always wanted the desert more than eitherof them. It is going to be a month of pure joy. I am going to beenormously happy. "

She stood up with a little laugh of intense pleasure, and half turned, waiting for Arbuthnot. He got up reluctantly and stood silent besideher for a few moments. "Diana, I wish you'd let me kiss you, justonce, " he broke out miserably. 

She looked up swiftly with a glint of anger in her eyes, and shook herhead. "No. That's not in the compact. I have never been kissed in mylife. It is one of the things that I do not understand. " Her voice wasalmost fierce. 

She moved leisurely towards the hotel, and he paced beside herwondering if he had forfeited her friendship by his outburst, but onthe verandah she halted and spoke in the frank tone of camaraderie inwhich she had always addressed him. "Shall I see you in the morning?"

He understood. There was to be no more reference to what had passedbetween them. The offer of friendship held, but only on her own terms. He pulled himself together. 

"Yes. We have arranged an escort of about a dozen of us to ride thefirst few miles with you, to give you a proper send-off. "

She made a laughing gesture of protest. "It will certainly need fourweeks of solitude to counteract the conceit I shall acquire, " she saidlightly, as she passed into the ballroom. 

A few hours later Diana came into her bedroom, and, switching on theelectric lights, tossed her gloves and programme into a chair. The roomwas empty, for her maid had had a _vertige_ at the suggestion thatshe should accompany her mistress into the desert, and had been sentback to Paris to await Diana's return. She had left during the day, totake most of the heavy luggage with her. 

Diana stood in the middle of the room and looked at the preparationsfor the early start next morning with a little smile of satisfaction. Everything was _en train_; the final arrangements had all beenconcluded some days before. The camel caravan with the camp equipmentwas due to leave Biskra a few hours before the time fixed for the Mayosto start with Mustafa Ali, the reputable guide whom the Frenchauthorities had reluctantly recommended. The two big suit-cases thatDiana was taking with her stood open, ready packed, waiting only forthe last few necessaries, and by them the steamer trunk that Sir Aubreywould take charge of and leave in Paris as he passed through. On achaise-longue was laid out her riding kit ready for the morning. Hersmile broadened as she looked at the smart-cut breeches and high brownboots. They were the clothes in which most of her life had been spent, and in which she was far more at home than in the pretty dresses overwhich she had laughed with Arbuthnot. 

She was glad the dance was over; it was not a form of exercise thatappealed to her particularly. She was thinking only of the coming tour. She stretched her arms out with a little happy laugh. 

"It's the life of lives, and it's going to begin all over againto-morrow morning. " She crossed over to the dressing-table, and, propping her elbows on it, looked at herself in the glass, with alittle friendly smile at the reflection. In default of any otherconfidant she had always talked to herself, with no thought for thebeauty of the face staring back at her from the glass. The only commentshe ever made to herself on her own appearance was sometimes to wishthat her hair was not such a tiresome shade. She looked at herself nowwith a tinge of curiosity. "I wonder why I'm so especially happyto-night. It must be because we have been so long in Biskra. It's beenvery jolly, but I was beginning to get very bored. " She laughed againand picked up her watch to wind. It was one of her peculiarities thatshe would wear no jewellery of any kind. Even the gold repeater in herhand was on a plain leather strap. She undressed slowly and each momentfelt more wide-awake. Slipping a thin wrap over her pyjamas andlighting a cigarette she went out on to the broad balcony on to whichher bedroom gave. The room was on the first floor, and opposite herwindow rose one of the ornately carved and bracketed pillars thatsupported the balcony, stretching up to the second story above herhead. She looked down into the gardens below. It was an easy climb, shethought, with a boyish grin--far easier than many she had achievedsuccessfully when the need of a solitary ramble became imperative. Butthe East was inconvenient for solitary ramble; native servants had adisconcerting habit of lying down to sleep wherever drowsiness overcamethem, and it was not very long since she had slid down from her balconyand landed plumb on a slumbering bundle of humanity who had roused halfthe hotel with his howls. She leant far over the rail, trying to seeinto the verandah below, and she thought she caught a glimpse of whitedrapery. She looked again, and this time there was nothing, but sheshook her head with a little grimace, and swung herself up on to thebroad ledge of the railing. Settling herself comfortably with her backagainst the column she looked out over the hotel gardens into thenight, humming softly the Kashmiri song she had heard earlier in theevening. 

The risen moon was full, and its cold, brilliant light filled thegarden with strong black shadows. She watched some that seemed even tomove, as if the garden were alive with creeping, hurrying figures, andamused herself tracking them until she traced them to the palm tree orcactus bush that caused them. One in particular gave her a long hunttill she finally ran it to its lair, and it proved to be the shadow ofa grotesque lead statue half hidden by a flowering shrub. Forgettingthe hour and the open windows all around her, she burst into a ripplingpeal of laughter, which was interrupted by the appearance of a figure, imperfectly seen through the lattice-work which divided her balconyfrom the next one, and the sound of an irritable voice. 

"For Heaven's sake, Diana, let other people sleep if you can't. "

"Which, being interpreted, is let Sir Aubrey Mayo sleep, " she retorted, with a chuckle. "My dear boy, sleep if you want to, but I don't knowhow you can on a night like this. Did you ever see such a gorgeousmoon?"

"Oh, damn the moon!"

"Oh, very well. Don't get cross about it. Go back to bed and put yourhead under the clothes, and then you won't see it. But I'm going to sithere. "

"Diana, don't be an idiot! You'll go to sleep and fall into the gardenand break your neck. "

"_Tant pis pour moi. Tant mieux pour toi, _" she said flippantly. "I have left you all that I have in the world, dear brother. Coulddevotion go further?"

She paid no heed to his exclamation of annoyance, and looked back intothe garden. It was a wonderful night, silent except for the cicadas'monotonous chirping, mysterious with the inexplicable mystery thathangs always in the Oriental night. The smells of the East rose up allaround her; here, as at home, they seemed more perceptible by nightthan by day. Often at home she had stood on the little stone balconyoutside her room, drinking in the smells of the night--the pungent, earthy smell after rain, the aromatic smell of pine trees near thehouse. It was the intoxicating smells of the night that had firstdriven her, as a very small child, to clamber down from her balcony, clinging to the thick ivy roots, to wander with the delightful sense ofwrong-doing through the moonlit park and even into the adjoining gloomywoods. She had always been utterly fearless. 

Her childhood had been a strange one. There had been no near relativesto interest themselves in the motherless girl left to the tendermercies of a brother nearly twenty years her senior, who was franklyand undisguisedly horrified at the charge that had been thrust uponhim. Wrapped up in himself, and free to indulge in the wander hungerthat gripped him, the baby sister was an intolerable burden, and he hadshifted responsibility in the easiest way possible. For the first fewyears of her life she was left undisturbed to nurses and servants whospoiled her indiscriminately. Then, when she was still quite a tinychild, Sir Aubrey Mayo came home from a long tour, and, settling downfor a couple of years, fixed on his sister's future training, modelledrigidly on his own upbringing. Dressed as a boy, treated as a boy, shelearned to ride and to shoot and to fish--not as amusements, butseriously, to enable her to take her place later on as a companion tothe man whose only interests they were. His air of weariness was amannerism. In reality he was as hard as nails, and it was his intentionthat Diana should grow up as hard. With that end in view her upbringinghad been Spartan, no allowances were made for sex or temperament andnothing was spared to gain the desired result. And from the first Dianahad responded gallantly, throwing herself heart and soul into thearduous, strenuous life mapped out for her. The only drawback to aperfect enjoyment of life were the necessary lessons that had to begone through, though even these might have been worse. Every morningshe rode across the park to the rectory for a couple of hours' tuitionwith the rector, whose heart was more in his stable than in his parish, and whose reputation was greater across country than it was in thepulpit. His methods were rough and ready, but she had brains, andacquired an astonishing amount of diverse knowledge. But her educationwas stopped with abrupt suddenness when she was fifteen by the arrivalat the rectory of an overgrown young cub who had been sent by adespairing parent, as a last resource, to the muscular rector, and whoquickly discovered what those amongst whom she had grown up had hardlyrealised, that Diana Mayo, with the clothes and manners of a boy, wasreally an uncommonly beautiful young woman. With the assurancebelonging to his type, he had taken the earliest opportunity of tellingher so, following it with an attempt to secure the kiss that up to nowhis own good looks had always secured for him. But in this case he hadto deal with a girl who was a girl by accident of birth only, who wasquicker with her hands and far finer trained than he was, and whosenatural strength was increased by furious rage. She had blacked hiseyes before he properly understood what was happening, and was dancingaround him like an infuriated young gamecock when the rector had burstin upon them, attracted by the noise. 

What she left he had finished, and then, breathless and angry, hadridden back across the park with her and had briefly announced to SirAubrey, who happened to be at home upon one of his rare visits, thathis pupil was both too old and too pretty to continue her studies atthe rectory, and had taken himself off as hurriedly as he had come, leaving Sir Aubrey to settle for himself the new problem of Diana. And, as before, it was settled in the easiest possible way. Physically shewas perfectly able to take up the role for which he had always intendedher; mentally he presumed that she knew as much as it was necessary forher to know, and, in any case, travelling itself was an education, anda far finer one than could be learned from books. So Diana grew up in aday, and in a fortnight the old life was behind her and she had startedout on the ceaseless travels with her brother that had continued forthe last six years--years of perpetual change, of excitements anddangers. 

She thought of it all, sitting on the broad rail of the balcony, herhead slanted against the column on which she leaned. "It's been asplendid life, " she murmured, "and to-morrow--to-day begins the mostperfect part of it. " She yawned and realised suddenly that she wasdesperately sleepy. She turned back into her room, leaving the windowswide, and, flinging off her wrap, tumbled into bed and slept almostbefore her head was on the pillow. 

It must have been about an hour later when she awoke, suddenly wideawake. She lay quite still, looking cautiously under her thick lashes. The room was flooded with moonlight, there was nothing to be seen, butshe had the positive feeling that there was another presence in theroom beside her own; she had had a half-conscious vision in the momentof waking of a shadowy something that had seemed to fade away by thewindow. As the actual reality of this thought pierced through the sleepthat dulled her brain and became a concrete suggestion, she sprang outof the bed and ran on to the balcony. It was empty. She leaned over therailing, listening intently, but she could see nothing and hearnothing. Puzzled, she went back into her room and turned on the lights. Nothing seemed to be missing: her watch lay where she had left it onthe dressing table; and the suit-cases had apparently not been tamperedwith. By the bedside the ivory-mounted revolver that she always carriedwas lying as she had placed it. She looked around the room again, frowning. "It must have been a dream, " she said doubtfully, "but itseemed very real. It looked tall and white and solid, and I _felt_it there. " She waited a moment or two, then shrugged her shoulders, turned out the lights, and got into bed. Her nerves were admirable, andin five minutes she was asleep again. 

CHAPTER II

The promised send-off had been enthusiastic. The arrangements for thetrip had been perfect; there had been no hitch anywhere. The guide, Mustafa Ali, appeared capable and efficient, effacing himself when notwanted and replying with courteous dignity when spoken to. The day hadbeen full of interest, and the long, hot ride had for Diana been theheight of physical enjoyment. They had reached the oasis where thefirst night was to be passed an hour before, and found the camp alreadyestablished, tents pitched, and everything so ordered that Sir Aubreycould find nothing to criticise; even Stephens, his servant, who hadtravelled with him since Diana was a baby, and who was as critical ashis master on the subject of camps, had no fault to find. 

Diana glanced about her little travelling tent with complete content. It was much smaller than the ones to which she had always beenaccustomed, ridiculously so compared with the large one she had had inIndia the previous year, with its separate bath--and dressing-rooms. Servants, too, had swarmed in India. Here service promised to beinadequate, but it had been her whim on this tour to dispense with theelaborate arrangements that Sir Aubrey cultivated and to trycomparative roughing it. The narrow camp cot, the tin bath, the littlefolding table and her two suit-cases seemed to take up all theavailable space. But she laughed at the inconvenience, though she haddrenched her bed with splashing, and the soap had found its way intothe toe of one of her long boots. She had changed from her ridingclothes into a dress of clinging jade-green silk, swinging short aboveher slender ankles, the neck cut low, revealing the gleaming white ofher soft, girlish bosom. She came out of the tent and stood a momentexchanging an amused smile with Stephens, who was hovering neardubiously, one eye on her and the other on his master. She was late, and Sir Aubrey liked his meals punctually. The baronet was lounging inone deck-chair with his feet on another. 

Diana wagged an admonishing forefinger. "Fly, Stephens, and fetch thesoup! If it is cold there will be a riot. " She walked to the edge ofthe canvas cloth that had been thrown down in front of the tents andstood revelling in the scene around her, her eyes dancing withexcitement as they glanced slowly around the camp spread out over theoasis--the clustering palm trees, the desert itself stretching awaybefore her in undulating sweeps, but seemingly level in the eveninglight, far off to the distant hills lying like a dark smudge againstthe horizon. She drew a long breath. It was the desert at last, thedesert that she felt she had been longing for all her life. She hadnever known until this moment how intense the longing had been. Shefelt strangely at home, as if the great, silent emptiness had beenwaiting for her as she had been waiting for it, and now that she hadcome it was welcoming her softly with the faint rustle of thewhispering sand, the mysterious charm of its billowy, shifting surfacethat seemed beckoning to her to penetrate further and further into itsunknown obscurities. 

Her brother's voice behind her brought her down to earth suddenly. "You've been a confounded long time. "

She turned to the table with a faint smile. "Don't be a bear, Aubrey. It's all very well for you. You have Stephens to lather your chin andto wash your hands, but thanks to that idiot Marie, I have to lookafter myself. "

Sir Aubrey took his heels down leisurely from the second chair, pitchedaway his cigar, and, screwing his eyeglass into his eye with more thanusual truculence, looked at her with disapproval. "Are you going to rigyourself out like that every evening for the benefit of Mustafa Ali andthe camel-drivers?"

"I do not propose to invite the worthy Mustafa to meals, and I am notin the habit of 'rigging myself out, ' as you so charmingly put it, forany one's benefit. If you think I dress in camp to please you, my dearAubrey, you flatter yourself. I do it entirely to please myself. Thatexplorer woman we met in London that first year I began travelling withyou explained to me the real moral and physical value of changing intocomfortable, pretty clothes after a hard day in breeches and boots. Youchange yourself. What's the difference?"

"All the difference, " he snapped. "There is no need for you to makeyourself more attractive than you are already. "

"Since when has it occurred to you that I am attractive? You must havea touch of the sun, Aubrey, " she replied, with uplifted eyebrows, drumming impatiently with her fingers on the table. 

"Don't quibble. You know perfectly well that you are good-looking--toogood-looking to carry through this preposterous affair. "

"Will you please tell me what you are driving at?" she asked quietly. But the dark blue eyes fixed on her brother's face were growing darkeras she looked at him. 

"I've been doing some hard thinking to-day, Diana. This tour youpropose is impossible. "

"Isn't it rather late in the day to find that out?" she interruptedsarcastically; but he ignored the interruption. 

"You must see for yourself, now that you are face to face with thething, that it is impossible. It's quite unthinkable that you canwander for the next month all alone in the desert with those damnedniggers. Though my legal guardianship over you terminated lastSeptember I still have some moral obligations towards you. Though ithas been convenient to me to bring you up as a boy and to regard you inthe light of a younger brother instead of a sister, we cannot get awayfrom the fact that you are a woman, and a very young woman. There arecertain things a young woman cannot do. If you had been the boy Ialways wished you were it would have been a different matter, but youare not a boy, and the whole thing is impossible--utterly impossible. "There was a fretful impatience in his voice. 

Diana lit a cigarette slowly, and swung round on her chair with a hardlaugh. "If I had not lived with you all my life, Aubrey, I shouldreally be impressed with your brotherly solicitude; I should think youreally meant it. But knowing you as I do, I know that it is not anxietyon my behalf that is prompting you, but the disinclination that youhave to travel alone without me. You have come to depend on me to saveyou certain annoyances and inconveniences that always occur intravelling. You were more honest in Biskra when you only objected to mytrip without giving reasons. Why have you waited until to-night to giveme those reasons?"

"Because I thought that here, at least, you would have sense enough tosee them. In Biskra it was impossible to argue with you. You made yourown arrangements against my wishes. I left it, feeling convinced thatthe impossibility of it would be brought home to you here, and that youwould see for yourself that it was out of the question. Diana, give upthis insane trip. "

"I will not. "

"I've a thundering good mind to make you. "

"You can't. I'm my own mistress. You have no right over me at all. Youhave no claim on me. You haven't even that of ordinary brotherlyaffection, for you have never given me any, so you cannot expect itfrom me. We needn't make any pretence about it, I am not going to argueany more. I will not go back to Biskra. "

"If you are afraid of being laughed at----" he sneered; but she took himup swiftly. 

"I am not afraid of being laughed at. Only cowards are afraid of that, and I am not a coward. "

"Diana, listen to reason!"

"Aubrey! I have said my last word. Nothing will alter my determinationto go on this trip. Your arguments do not convince me, who know you. Itis your own considerations and not mine that are at the bottom of yourremonstrances. You do not deny it, because you can't, because it istrue. "

They were facing each other across the little table. An angry flushrose in Sir Aubrey's face, and his eyeglass fell with a little sharptinkle against a waistcoat button. 

"You're a damned obstinate little devil!" he said furiously. 

She looked at him steadily, her scornful mouth firm as his own. "I amwhat you have made me, " she said slowly. "Why quarrel with the result?You have brought me up to ignore the restrictions attached to my sex;you now round on me and throw them in my face. All my life you have setme an example of selfishness and obstinacy. Can you wonder that I haveprofited by it? You have made me as hard as yourself, and you nowprofess surprise at the determination your training has forced upon me. You are illogical. It is your fault, not mine. There was bound to be aclash some day. It has come sooner than I expected, that's all. Up tillnow my inclinations have gone with yours, but this seems to be theparting of the ways. As I reminded you before, I am my own mistress, and I will submit to no interference with my actions. Please understandthat clearly, Aubrey. I don't want to wrangle any more. I will join youin New York as I promised. I am not in the habit of breaking mypromises, but my life is my own to deal with, and I will deal with itexactly as I wish and not as any one else wishes. I will do what Ichoose when and how I choose, and I will _never_ obey any will butmy own. "

Sir Aubrey's eyes narrowed suddenly. "Then I hope to Heaven that oneday you will fall into the hands of a man who will make you obey, " hecried wrathfully. 

Her scornful mouth curled still more scornfully. "Then Heaven helphim!" she retorted scathingly, and turned away to her tent. 

But, alone, her anger gave way to amusement. It had been something, after all, to rouse the lazy Aubrey to wrath. She knew exactly thegrievance he had been nursing against her during the last few weeks inBiskra. Though he travelled perpetually and often in remote anddesolate places, he travelled with the acme of comfort and the minimumof inconveniences. He put himself out for nothing, and the inevitabledifficulties that accrued fell on Diana's younger and less blaseshoulders. She had always known the uses he put her to and theconvenience she was to him. He might have some latent feelings withregard to the inadvisability of her behavior, he might even have someprickings of conscience on the subject of his upbringing of her, but itwas thoughts of his own comfort that were troubling him most. That sheknew, and the knowledge was not conducive to any kinder feeling towardshim. He always had been and always would be supremely selfish. Thewhole of their life together had been conducted to suit hisconveniences and not hers. She knew, too, why her company wasparticularly desired on his visit to America. It was a hunting trip, but not the kind that they were usually accustomed to: it was a wifeand not big game that was taking Sir Aubrey across the ocean on thisoccasion. It had been in his mind for some time as an inevitable andsomewhat unpleasant necessity. Women bored him, and the idea ofmarriage was distasteful, but a son to succeed him was imperative--aMayo must be followed by a Mayo. An heir was essential for the bigproperty that the family had held for hundreds of years. No woman hadever attracted him, but of all women he had met American women wereless actively irritating to him, and so it was to America that heturned in search of a wife. He proposed to take a house in New York fora few months and later on in Newport, and it was for that that Diana'scompany was considered indispensable. She would save him endlesstrouble, as all arrangements could be left in her hands and Stephens'. Having made up his mind to go through with a proceeding that heregarded in the light of a sacrifice on the family altar, his wish wasto get it over and done with as soon as possible, and Diana'sinterference in his plans had exasperated him. It was the first timethat their wills had crossed, and she shrugged her shouldersimpatiently, with a grimace at the recollection. A little more and itwould have degenerated into a vulgar quarrel. She banished Aubrey andhis selfishness resolutely from her mind. It was very hot, and she layvery still in the narrow cot, wishing she had not been so rigid in thematter of its width, and wondering if a sudden movement in the nightwould precipitate her into the bath that stood alongside. She thoughtregretfully of a punkah, and then smiled derisively at herself. 

"Sybarite!" she murmured sleepily. "You need a few discomforts. "

She was almost aggressively cheerful next morning at breakfast and forthe time that they lingered at the oasis after the baggage camels hadstarted. Sir Aubrey was morose and silent, and she exchanged most ofher badinage with Stephens, who was superintending the packing of thetiffin basket that would accompany her in charge of the man who hadbeen selected as her personal servant, and who was waiting, withMustafa Ali and about ten men, to ride with her. 

The time for starting came. Stephens was fussing about the horse thatDiana was to ride. 

"Everything all right, Stephens? Up to your standard? Don't look soglum. I wish you were coming to look after me, but it couldn't be done. Sir Aubrey would be lost without you. "

The idea of a tour without Stephens in the background seemed suddenlymomentous, and the smile she gave him was more serious than she meantit to be. She went back to her brother, who was pulling his moustachesavagely. "I don't think there's any use waiting any longer. You won'twant to hurry yourself too much, and you will want to be in Biskra intime for dinner, " she said as casually as she could. 

He swung towards her. "Diana, it's still not too late to change yourmind. For Heaven's sake give up this folly. It's tempting Providence. "For the first time there was a genuine ring in his voice, and for amoment Diana wavered, but only for a moment. Then she looked at himwith a slow smile. 

"Do I fall on your neck and say, 'Take me back, dear Guardian; I willbe good, ' or do I prostrate myself at your feet and knock my head onyour boots, and whine, in the language of the country, 'Hearing isobeying'? Don't be ridiculous, Aubrey. You can't expect me to change mymind at the eleventh hour. It's perfectly safe. Mustafa Ali will takecare that everything goes smoothly. He has his reputation in Biskra tothink of. You know the character the authorities gave him. He is notlikely to throw that away. In any case I can take care of myself, thanks to your training. I don't mind owning to being conceited aboutmy shooting. Even you admit that I am a credit to your teaching. "

With a gay little laugh she whipped out the ivory-mounted revolver, andaiming at a low flat rock, some distance away, fired. She was anunusually good revolver shot, but this time she seemed to have missed. There was no mark on the stone. Diana stared at it stupidly, a frown ofperplexity creasing her forehead. Then she looked at her brother, andback to the revolver in her hand. 

Sir Aubrey swore. "Diana! What a senseless piece of bravado!" he criedangrily. 

She took no notice of him. She was still staring at the smooth rockfate. "I don't understand it. How could I miss? It's as big as ahouse, " she murmured thoughtfully, and raised the revolver again. 

But Sir Aubrey caught her wrist. "For God's sake don't make a fool ofyourself a second time. You have lowered your prestige quite enoughalready, " he said in a low voice, with a glance at the group ofwatching Arabs. 

Diana jerked the little weapon back into its place reluctantly. "Idon't understand it, " she said again. "It must be the light. " Shemounted and wheeled her horse alongside of Sir Aubrey's, and held outher hand. "Good-bye, Aubrey. Expect me a month after you arrive. I willcable to you from Cherbourg. Good luck! I shall roll up in time to bebest man, " she added, laughing, and with a nod to Mustafa Ali sheturned her horse's head southwards. 

For a long time she rode in silence. The quarrel with Aubrey had left anasty taste in her mouth. She knew that what she was doing wasconsidered unconventional, but she had been brought up to beunconventional. She had never even thought, when she planned her tour, of possible criticism; it would have made no difference to her if shehad thought, and she had been amazed and amused at the sensation thather proposed trip had caused. The publicity to which it had given risehad annoyed her intensely; she had been scornful that people could notoccupy themselves with their own affairs and leave her to deal withhers. But that Aubrey should join in the general criticism and presentsuch a complete _volte-face_ to the opinions he had always heldwas beyond her comprehension. She was angry with him, and contempt wasmingled with her anger. It was inconsistent with the whole of hislifelong attitude toward her, and the discovery of his altered ideasleft her rather breathless and more than ever determined to adhere toher own deeply-rooted convictions. Aubrey was responsible for them, hehad instilled them, and if he chose now to abandon them that was hislook-out. For her own part she saw no reason to change principles shehad been brought up in. If Aubrey really thought there was danger inthis expedition he could have sacrificed himself for once and come withher. As Jim Arbuthnot had said, it was only a month, a negligiblelength of time, but Aubrey's selfishness would not allow him to makethat concession any more than her own obstinacy would allow her to giveway. It was too much to expect. And this was the desert! It was theexpedition that she had dreamed of and planned for years. She could notgive it up. The idea of danger brought a little laugh to her lips. Howcould anything in the desert hurt her? It had been calling to heralways. There was nothing strange about the scene that lay all aroundher. Her surroundings seemed oddly familiar. The burning sun overheadin the cloudless sky, the shimmering haze rising from the hot, dryground, the feathery outline of some clustering palm trees in a tinydistant oasis were like remembrances that she watched again with afeeling of gladness that was fuller and deeper than anything that shehad been conscious of before. She was radiantly happy--happy in thesense of her youth and strength, her perfect physical fitness, happy inthe capacity of her power of enjoyment, happy with the touch of thekeen, nervous horse between her knees, exhilarated with her newauthority. She had looked forward so eagerly, and realisation wasproving infinitely greater than anticipation. And for a whole monththis perfect happiness was to be hers. She thought of her promise toAubrey with impatience. To give up the joyous freedom of the desert forthe commonplace round of American social life seemed preposterous. Thethought of the weeks in New York were frankly tedious; Newport would bea little less bad, for there were alleviations. The only hope was thatAubrey would find the wife he was looking for quickly and release herfrom an obligation that was going to be very wearisome. Aubrey wascounting on her, and it would be unsporting to let him down; she wouldhave to keep her promise, but she would be glad when it was over. Aubrey married would settle definitely the possibility of any furtherdisagreements between them. She wondered vaguely what the future LadyMayo would be like, but she did not expend much pity on her. Americangirls as a rule were well able to care for themselves. She stroked herhorse with a little smile. Aubrey and his possible wife seemedsingularly uninteresting beside the vivid interest of the moment. Acaravan that had been visible for a long time coming towards them drewnearer, and Diana reined in to watch the long line of slow, lurchingcamels passing. The great beasts, with their disdainful tread and long, swaying necks, never failed to interest her. It was a large caravan;the bales on the camels' backs looked heavy, and beside the merchantson riding camels and a motley crowd of followers--some on lean littledonkeys and others on foot--there was an armed guard of mounted men. Ittook some time to pass. One of two of the camels carried huddledfigures, swathed and shapeless with a multitude of coverings, thatDiana knew must be women. The contrast between them and herself wasalmost ridiculous. It made her feel stifled even to look at them. Shewondered what their lives were like, if they ever rebelled against thedrudgery and restrictions that were imposed upon them, if they everlonged for the freedom that she was revelling in, or if custom andusage were so strong that they had no thoughts beyond the narrow lifethey led. The thought of those lives filled her with aversion. The ideaof marriage--even in its highest form, based on mutual considerationand mutual forbearance--was repugnant to her. She thought of it with ashiver of absolute repulsion. To Aubrey it was distasteful, but to hercold, reserved temperament it was a thing of horror and disgust. Thatwomen could submit to the degrading intimacy and fettered existence ofmarried life filled her with scornful wonder. To be bound irrevocablyto the will and pleasure of a man who would have the right to demandobedience in all that constituted marriage and the strength to enforcethose claims revolted her. For a Western woman it was bad enough, butfor the women of the East, mere slaves of the passions of the men whoowned them, unconsidered, disregarded, reduced to the level of animals, the bare idea made her quiver and bring her hand down heavily on herhorse's neck. The nervous creature started sharply and she let him go, calling to Mustafa Ali as she cantered past him. He had ridden to meetthe caravan and was dismounted, deep in conversation with the chief ofthe armed guard. With the thoughts that it had provoked the caravan hadlost all interest for Diana. She wanted to get away from it, to forgetit, and she rode on unmindful of her escort, who, like her guide, hadstopped to speak with the traders. Diana's horse was fleet, and it wassome time before they caught her up. There was a look of annoyance onMustafa Ali's face as she turned on hearing them behind her and signedto him to ride beside her. 

"Mademoiselle is not interested in the caravan?" he asked curiously. 

"No, " she replied shortly, and asked for some details connected withher own expedition. The man talked easily and well, in fluent French, and after giving the required information, volunteered anecdotesrelating to various well-known people whom he had guided in the desert. Diana watched him interestedly. He seemed a man of about middle age, though it was difficult to guess more than approximately, for thethick, peaked beard that hid both mouth and chin made him look olderthan he really was. His beard had been his only drawback from Diana'spoint of view, for she judged men by their mouths. Eyes wereuntrustworthy evidences of character in an Oriental, for they usuallywavered under a European's. Mustafa Ali's were wavering now as shelooked at him, and it occurred to her that they had not seemed nearlyso shifty in Biskra when she had engaged him. But she attached noimportance to the thought, and dismissed it as much less interestingthan the great difference displayed in their respective modes ofriding. The Arab's exaggeratedly short stirrup would have given heragonies of cramp. She pointed the difference with a laugh of amusementand drew the man on to speak of his horses. The one Diana was ridingwas an unusually fine beast, and had been one of the greatest points inthe guide's favour when he had brought it for her inspection. He wasenthusiastic in its praise, but volubly vague as to its antecedents, which left Diana with the conviction that the animal had either beenstolen or acquired in some irregular manner and that it would betactless to pursue further inquiries. After all it was no business ofhers. It was enough that her trip was to be conducted on the back of ahorse that it was a pleasure to ride and whose vagaries promised togive interest to what otherwise might have been monotonous. Some of thehorses that she had seen in Biskra had been the veriest jades. 

She asked Mustafa Ali about the country through which they werepassing, but he did not seem to have much information that was reallyof interest, or what seemed important to him appeared trivial to her, and he constantly brought the conversation back to Biskra, of which shewas tired, or to Oran, of which she knew nothing. The arrival at alittle oasis where the guide suggested that the midday halt might bemade was opportune. Diana swung to the ground, and, tossing down hergloves, gave herself a shake. It was hot work riding in the burning sunand the rest would be delightful. She had a thoroughly healthyappetite, and superintended the laying out of her lunch with interest. It was the last time that it would be as daintily packed. Stephens wasan artist with a picnic basket. She was going to miss Stephens. Shefinished her lunch quickly, and then, with her back propped against apalm tree, a cigarette in her mouth, her arms clasped round her knees, she settled down happily, overlooking the desert. The noontime hushseemed over everything. Not a breath of wind stirred the tops of thepalms; a lizard on a rock near her was the only living thing she couldsee. She glanced over her shoulder. The men, with their big cloaksdrawn over their heads, were lying asleep, or at any rate appeared tobe so; only Mustafa Ali was on foot, standing at the edge of the oasis, staring fixedly in the direction in which they would ride later. 

Diana threw the end of her cigarette at the lizard and laughed at itsprecipitant flight. She had no desire to follow the example of herescort and sleep. She was much too happy to lose a minute of herenjoyment by wasting it in rest that she did not require. She wasperfectly content and satisfied with herself and her outlook. She hadnot a care or a thought in the world. There was not a thing that shewould have changed or altered. Her life had always been happy; she hadextracted the last ounce of pleasure out of every moment of it. Thather happiness was due to the wealth that had enabled her to indulge inthe sports and constant travel that made up the sum total of herdesires never occurred to her. That what composed her pleasure in lifewas possible only because she was rich enough to buy the means ofgratifying it did not enter her head. She thought of her wealth no morethan of her beauty. The business connected with her coming of age, whenthe big fortune left to her by her father passed unreservedly into herown hands, was a wearisome necessity that had been got through asexpeditiously as possible, with as little attention to detail as theold family lawyer had allowed, and an absence of interest that wasevidenced in the careless scrawl she attached to each document that wasgiven her to sign. The mere money in itself was nothing; it was only ameans to an end. She had never even realised how much was expended onthe continuous and luxurious expeditions that she had made with SirAubrey; her own individual tastes were simple, and apart from theexpensive equipment that was indispensable for their hunting trips, andwhich was Aubrey's choosing, not hers, she was not extravagant. Thelong list of figures that had been so boring during the tedious hoursthat she had spent with the lawyer, grudging every second of theglorious September morning that she had had to waste in the librarywhen she was longing to be out of doors, had conveyed nothing to herbeyond the fact that in future when she wanted anything she would beput to the trouble of writing out an absurd piece of paper herself, instead of leaving the matter in Aubrey's hands, as she had donehitherto. 

She had hardly understood and had been much embarrassed by the formaland pedantic congratulations with which the lawyer had concluded hisbusiness statement. She was not aware that she was an object ofcongratulation. It all seemed very stupid and uninteresting. Of reallife she knew nothing and of the ordinary ties and attachments offamily life less than nothing. Aubrey's cold, loveless training haddebarred her from all affection; she had grown up oblivious of it. Lovedid not exist for her; from even the thought of passion she shrankinstinctively with the same fastidiousness as she did from actualphysical uncleanliness. 

That she had awakened an emotion that she did not understand herself incertain men had been an annoyance that had become more intolerable withrepetition. She had hated them and herself impartially, and she hadscorned them fiercely. She had never been so gentle and so human withany one as she had been with Jim Arbuthnot, and that only because shewas so radiantly happy that night that not even the distastefulreminder that she was a woman whom a man coveted was able to disturbher happiness. But here there was no need to dwell on annoyances ordistasteful reminders. 

Diana dug her heels into the soft ground with a little wriggle ofcontent; here she would be free from anything that could mar herperfect enjoyment of life as it appeared to her. Here there was nothingto spoil her pleasure. Her head had drooped during her thoughts, andfor the last few minutes her eyes had been fixed on the dusty tips ofher riding-boots. But she raised them now and looked up with a greatcontent in them. It was the happiest day of her life. She had forgottenthe quarrel with Aubrey. She had put from her the chain of ideassuggested by the passing caravan. There was nothing discordant todisturb the perfect harmony of her mind. 

A shade beside her made her turn her head. Mustafa Ali salaamedobsequiously. "It is time to start, Mademoiselle. "

Diana looked up in surprise and then back over her shoulder at theescort. The men were already mounted. The smile faded from her eyes. Mustafa Ali was guide, but she was head of this expedition; if herguide had not realised this he would have to do so now. She glanced atthe watch on her wrist. 

"There is plenty of time, " she said coolly. 

Mustafa Ali salaamed again. "It is a long ride to reach the oasis wherewe must camp to-night, " he insisted hurriedly. 

Diana crossed one brown boot over the other, and scooping up some sandin the palm of her hand trickled it through her fingers slowly. "Thenwe can ride faster, " she replied quietly, looking at the shiningparticles glistening in the sun. 

Mustafa Ali made a movement of impatience and persisted doggedly. "Mademoiselle would do well to start. "

Diana looked up swiftly with angry eyes. Under the man's suave mannerand simple words a peremptory tone had crept into his voice. She satquite still, her fingers raking the warm sand, and under her haughtystare the guide's eyes wavered and turned away. "We will start when Ichoose, Mustafa Ali, " she said brusquely. "You may give orders to yourmen, but you will take your orders from me. I will tell you when I amready. You may go. "

Still he hesitated, swaying irresolutely backwards and forwards on hisheels. 

Diana snapped her fingers over her shoulder, a trick she had learnedfrom a French officer in Biskra. "I said go!" she repeated sharply. Shetook no notice of his going and did not look back to see what orders hegave the men. She glanced at her watch again. Perhaps it was growinglate, perhaps the camp was a longer ride than she had thought; butMustafa Ali must learn his lesson if they rode till midnight to reachthe oasis. She pushed her obstinate chin out further and then smiledagain suddenly. She hoped that the night would fall before they reachedtheir destination. There had been one or two moonlight riding picnicsout from Biskra, and the glamour of the desert nights had gone toDiana's head. This riding into the unknown away from the noisy, chattering crowd who had spoiled the perfect stillness of the nightwould be infinitely more perfect. She gave a little sigh of regret asshe thought of it. It was not really practical. Though she would waitnearly another hour to allow the fact of her authority to sink intoMustafa Ali's brain she would have to hasten afterwards to arrive atthe camp before darkness set in. The men were unused to her ways andshe to theirs. She would not have Stephens' help to-night; she wouldhave to depend on herself to order everything as she wished it, and itwas easier done in daylight. One hour would not make much difference. The horses had more in them than had been taken out of them thismorning; they could be pushed along a bit faster with no harm happeningto them. She eyed her watch from time to time with a grin of amusement, but suppressed the temptation to look and see how Mustafa Ali wastaking it, for her action might be seen and misconstrued. 

When the time she had set herself was up she rose and walked slowlytowards the group of Arabs. The guide's face was sullen, but she tookno notice, and, when they started, motioned him to her side again witha reference to Biskra that provoked a flow of words. It was the lastplace she wanted to hear of, but it was one of which he spoke thereadiest, and she knew it was not wise to allow him to remain silent tosulk. His ill-temper would evaporate with the sound of his own voice. She rode forward steadily, silent herself, busy with her own thoughts, heedless of the voice beside her, and unconscious of the fact when itbecame silent. 

She had been quite right about the capabilities of the horses. Theyresponded without any apparent effort to the further demand made ofthem. The one in particular that Diana was riding moved in a swift, easy gallop that was the perfection of motion. 

They had been riding for some hours when they came to the first oasisthat had been sighted since leaving the one where the midday halt wasmade. Diana pulled up her horse to look at it, for it was unusuallybeautiful in the luxuriousness and arrangement of its group of palmsand leafy bushes. Some pigeons were cooing softly, hidden from sightamongst the trees, with a plaintive melancholy that somehow seemed inkeeping with the deserted spot. Beside the well, forming a triangle, stood what had been three particularly fine palm trees, but the topshad been broken off about twenty feet up from the ground, and themutilated trunks reared themselves bare and desolate-looking. Dianatook off her heavy helmet and tossed it to the man behind her, and satlooking at the oasis, while the faint breeze that had sprung up stirredher thick, short hair, and cooled her hot head. The sad notes of thepigeons and the broken palms, that with their unusualness vaguelysuggested a tragedy, lent an air of mystery to the place that pleasedher. 

She turned eagerly to Mustafa Ali. "Why did you not arrange for thecamp to be here? It would have been a long enough ride. "

The man fidgeted in his saddle, fingering his beard uneasily, his eyeswandering past Diana's and looking at the broken trees. "No man restshere, Mademoiselle. It is the place of devils. The curse of Allah isupon it, " he muttered, touching his horse with his heel, and making itsidle restlessly--an obvious hint that Diana ignored. 

"I like it, " she persisted obstinately. 

He made a quick gesture with his fingers. "It is accursed. Death lurksbeside those broken palm trees, " he said, looking at her curiously. 

She jerked her head with a sudden smile. "For you, perhaps, but not forme. Allah's curse rests only upon those who fear it. But since you areafraid, Mustafa Ali, let us go on. " She gave a little light laugh, andMustafa Ali kicked his horse savagely as he followed. 

The distance before her spread out cleanly with the sharp distinctnessthat precedes the setting sun. She rode on until she began to wonder ifit would indeed be night-fall before she reached her destination. Theyhad ridden longer and faster than had ever been intended. It seemed oddthat they had not overtaken the baggage camels. She looked at her watchwith a frown. "Where is your caravan, Mustafa Ali?" she called. "I seeno sign of an oasis, and the darkness will come. "

"If Mademoiselle had started earlier----" he said sullenly. 

"If I had started earlier it would still have been too far. To-morrowwe will arrange it otherwise, " she said firmly. 

"To-morrow----" he growled indistinctly. 

Diana looked at him keenly. "What did you say?" she asked haughtily. 

His hand went to his forehead mechanically. "To-morrow is with Allah!"he murmured with unctuous piety. 

A retort trembled on Diana's lips, but her attention was distractedfrom her annoying guide to a collection of black specks far off acrossthe desert. They were too far away for her to see clearly, but shepointed to them, peering at them intently. "See!" she cried. "Is thatthe caravan?"

"As Allah wills!" he replied more piously than before, and Dianawished, with a sudden feeling of irritation, that he would stoprelegating his responsibilities to the Deity and take a little moreactive personal interest in his missing camel train. 

The black specks were moving fast across the level plain. Very soonDiana saw that it was not the slow, leisurely camels that they wereovertaking, but a band of mounted men who were moving swiftly towardsthem. They had seen nobody since the traders' caravan had passed themin the morning. For Diana the Arabs that were approaching were evenmore interesting than the caravan had been. She had seen plenty ofcaravans arriving and departing from Biskra, but, though she had seensmall parties of tribesmen constantly in the vicinity of the town, shehad never seen so large a body of mounted men before, nor had she seenthem as they were here, one with the wild picturesqueness of theirsurroundings. It was impossible to count how many there were, for theywere riding in close formation, the wind filling their, great whitecloaks, making each man look gigantic. Diana's interest flamed upexcitedly. It was like passing another ship upon a hitherto empty sea. They seemed to add a desired touch to the grim loneliness of the scenethat had begun to be a little awe-inspiring. Perhaps she was hungry, perhaps she was tired, or perhaps she was only annoyed by the badarrangements of her guide, but before the advent of the mounted ArabsDiana had been conscious of a feeling of oppression, as if the silentdesolation of the desert was weighing heavily upon her, but the body ofswiftly moving men and horses had changed the aspect utterly. Anatmosphere of life and purpose seemed to have taken the place of thequiet stagnation that had been before their coming. 

The distance between the two parties decreased rapidly. Diana, intenton the quickly advancing horsemen, spurred ahead of her guide withsparkling eyes. They were near enough now to see that the horses werebeautiful creatures and that each man rode magnificently. They werearmed too, their rifles being held in front of them, not slung on theirbacks as she had seen in Biskra. They passed quite close to her, only afew yards away--a solid square, the orderly ranks suggesting trainingand discipline that she had not looked for. Not a head turned in herdirection as they went by and the pace was not slackened. Fretted bythe proximity of the galloping horses, her own horse rearedimpatiently, but Diana pulled him in, turning in her saddle to watchthe Arabs pass, her breath coming quick with excitement. 

"What are they?" she called out to Mustafa Ali, who had dropped someway behind her. But he, too, was looking back at the horsemen, and didnot seem to hear her question. Her escort had lagged still furtherbehind her guide and were some distance away. Diana watched the rapidlymoving, compact square eagerly with appreciatory eyes--it was abeautiful sight. Then she gave a little gasp. The galloping horses haddrawn level with the last stragglers of her own party, and just beyondthey stopped suddenly. Diana would not have believed it possible thatthey could have stopped so suddenly and in such close formation whiletravelling at such a pace. The tremendous strain on the bridles flungthe horses far back on their haunches. But there was no time to dwellon the wonderful horsemanship or training of the men. Events moved toorapidly. The solid square split up and lengthened out into a long lineof two men riding abreast. Wheeling behind the last of Mustafa's menthey came back even faster than they had passed, and circled widelyround Diana and her attendants. Bewildered by this manoeuvre shewatched them with a puzzled frown, striving to soothe her horse, whowas nearly frantic with excitement. Twice they galloped round herlittle band, their long cloaks fluttering, their rifles tossing intheir hands. Diana was growing impatient. It was very fine to watch, but time and the light were both going. She would have been glad if thedemonstration had occurred earlier in the day, when there would havebeen more time to enjoy it. She turned again to Mustafa Ali to suggestthat they had better try to move on, but he had gone further from her, back towards his own. She wrestled with her nervous mount, trying toturn him to join her guide, when a sudden burst of rifle shots made herstart and her horse bound violently. Then she laughed. That would bethe end of the demonstration, a parting salute, the _decharge demousqueterie_ beloved of the Arab. She turned her head from herrefractory horse to look at them ride off, and the laugh died away onher lips. It was not a farewell salute. The rifles that the Arabs werefiring were not pointing up into the heavens, but aiming straight ather and her escort. And as she stared with suddenly startled eyes, unable to do anything with her plunging horse, Mustafa Ali's men wereblotted out from her sight, cut off by a band of Arabs who rode betweenher and them. Mustafa Ali himself was lying forward on the neck of hishorse, who was standing quiet amidst the general confusion. Then therecame another volley, and the guide slid slowly out of his saddle on tothe ground, and at the same time Diana's horse went off with a wildleap that nearly unseated her. 

Until they started shooting the thought that the Arabs could be hostilehad not crossed her mind. She imagined that they were merely showingoff with the childish love of display which she knew wascharacteristic. The French authorities had been right after all. Diana's first feeling was one of contempt for an administration thatmade possible such an attempt so near civilisation. Her second afleeting amusement at the thought of how Aubrey would jeer. But heramusement passed as the real seriousness of the attack came home toher. For the first time it occurred to her that her guide's descentfrom his saddle was due to a wound and not to the fear that she had atfirst disgustedly attributed to him. But nobody had seemed to put upany kind of a fight, she thought wrathfully. She tugged angrily at herhorse's mouth, but the bit was between his teeth and he tore onfrantically. Her own position made her furious. Her guide was wounded, his men surrounded, and she was ignominiously being run away with by abolting horse. If she could only turn the wretched animal. It wouldonly be a question of ransom, of that she was positive. She must getback somehow to the others and arrange terms. It was an annoyance, ofcourse, but after all it added a certain piquancy to her trip, it wouldbe an experience. It was only a "hold-up. " She did not suppose theArabs had even really meant to hurt any one, but they were excited andsome one's shot, aimed wide, had found an unexpected billet. It couldonly be that. It was too near Biskra for any real danger, she arguedwith herself, still straining on the reins. She would not admit thatthere was any danger, though her heart was beating in a way that it hadnever done before. Then as she hauled ineffectually at the bridle withall her strength there came from behind her the sound of a long, shrillwhistle. Her horse pricked up his ears and she was conscious that hispace sensibly lessened. Instinctively she looked behind. A solitaryArab was riding after her and as she looked she realised that his horsewas gaining on hers. The thought drove every idea of stopping herrunaway from her and made her dig her spurs into him instead. There wasa sinister air of deliberation in the way in which the Arab wasfollowing her; he was riding her down. 

Diana's mouth closed firmly and a new keenness came into her steadyeyes. It was one thing to go back voluntarily to make terms with themen who had attacked her party; it was quite another thing to bedeliberately chased across the desert by an Arab freebooter. Herobstinate chin was almost square. Then the shadow of a laugh flickeredin her eyes and curved her mouth. New experiences were crowding in uponher to-day. She had often wondered what the feelings of a huntedcreature were. She seemed in a fair way of finding out. She had alwaysstoutly maintained that the fox enjoyed the run as much as the hounds;that remained to be proved, but, in any case, she would give this hounda run for his money. She could ride, and there seemed plenty yet in thefrightened animal under her. She bent down, lying low against his neckwith a little, reckless laugh, coaxing him with all her knowledge andspurring him alternately. But soon her mood changed. She frownedanxiously as she looked at the last rays of the setting sun. It wouldbe dark very soon. She could not go chasing through the night with thistiresome Arab at her heels. The humour seemed to have died out of thesituation and Diana began to get angry. In the level country thatsurrounded her there were no natural features that could afford coveror aid in any way; there seemed nothing for it but to own herselfdefeated and pull up--if she could. An idea of trying to dodge him andof returning of her own free will was dismissed at once as hopeless. She had seen enough in her short glimpse of the Arabs' tactics whenthey had passed her to know that she was dealing with a finishedhorseman on a perfectly trained horse, and that her idea could neversucceed. But, perversely, she felt that to that particular Arabfollowing her she would never give in. She would ride till she dropped, or the horse did, before that. 

The whistle came again, and again, in spite of her relentless spurring, her horse checked his pace. A sudden inspiration came to her. Perhapsit was the horse she was riding that was the cause of all the trouble. It was certainly the Arab's whistle that had made it moderate itsspeed; it was responding clearly to a signal that it knew. Her guide'sreluctance to give any particulars of his acquisition of the horse cameback to her. There could not be much doubt about it. The animal hadunquestionably been stolen, and either belonged to or was known to theparty of Arabs who had met them. 

The _naivete_ that paraded a stolen horse through the desert atthe risk of meeting its former owner made her smile in spite of herannoyance, but it was not a pleasant smile, as her thoughts turned fromthe horse to its present owner. The sum of Mustafa Ali's delinquencieswas mounting up fast. But it was his affair, not hers. In the meantimeshe had paid for the horse to ride through the desert, not to bewaylaid by Arab bandits. Her temper was going fast. 

She urged the horse on with all her power, but perceptibly he wasslowing up. She flashed another backward look. The Arab was closebehind her--closer than she had been aware. She had a momentary glimpseof a big white figure, dark piercing eyes, and white gleaming teeth, and passionate rage filled her. With no thought of what theconsequences or retaliation might be, with no thought at all beyond awild desire to rid herself of her pursuer, driven by a sudden madnesswhich seemed to rise up in her and which she could not control, sheclutched her revolver and fired twice, full in the face of the man whowas following her. He did not even flinch and a low laugh of amusementcame from him. And at the sound of his laugh Diana's mouth parchedsuddenly, and a cold shiver rippled across her spine. A strange feelingthat she had never experienced before went through her. She had missedagain as she had missed this morning. How, she did not know; it wasinexplicable, but it was a fact, and a fact that left her with afeeling of powerlessness. She dropped the useless revolver, tryingvainly to force her horse's pace, but inch by inch the fiery chestnutthat the Arab was riding crept up nearer alongside. She would not turnto look again, but glancing sideways she could see its small, wicked-looking head, with flat laid ears and vicious, bloodshot eyes, level with her elbow. For a moment or two it remained there, then witha sudden spurt the chestnut forged ahead, and as it shot past itswerved close in beside her, and the man, rising in his stirrups andleaning towards her, flung a pair of powerful arms around her, and, with a jerk, swung her clear of the saddle and on to his own horse infront of him. His movement had been so quick she was unprepared andunable to resist. For a moment she was stunned, then her senses cameback to her and she struggled wildly, but, stifled in the thick foldsof the Arab's robes, against which her face was crushed, and held in agrip that seemed to be slowly suffocating her, her struggles werefutile. The hard, muscular arm round her hurt her acutely, her ribsseemed to be almost breaking under its weight and strength, it wasnearly impossible to breathe with the close contact of his body. Shewas unusually strong for a girl, but against this steely strength thatheld her she was helpless. And for a time the sense of her helplessnessand the pain that any resistance to the arm wrapped round her gave hermade her lie quiet. She felt the Arab check his horse, felt thechestnut wheel, spinning high on his hind legs, and then bound forwardagain. 

Her feelings were indescribable. She did not know what to think. Hermind felt jarred. She was unable to frame any thoughts coherently. Whathad happened was so unexpected, so preposterous, that no conclusionseemed adequate. Only rage filled her--blind, passionate rage againstthe man who had dared to touch her, who had dared to lay his hands onher, and those hands the hands of a native. A shiver of revulsion ranthrough her. She was choking with fury, with anger and with disgust. The ignominy of her plight hurt her pride badly. She had beenoutridden, swept from her saddle as if she were a puppet, and compelledto bear the proximity of the man's own hateful body and the restraintof his arms. No one had ever dared to touch her before. No one had everdared to handle her as she was being handled now. How was it going toend? Where were they going? With her face hidden she had lost all senseof direction. She had no idea to what point the horse had turned whenhe had wheeled so suddenly. He was galloping swiftly with continualdisconcerting bounds that indicated either temper or nerves, but theman riding him seemed in no way disturbed by his horse's behavior. Shecould feel him swaying easily in the saddle, and even the wildest leapsdid not cause any slackening of the arm around her. 

But by degrees as she continued to lie still the pressure on her bodywas relieved slightly, and she was able to turn her head a littletowards the air for which she was almost fainting, but not enough toenable her to see what was passing around her. She drank in the coolair eagerly. Though she could not see she knew that the night had come, the night that she had hoped would fall before she reached herdestination, but which now seemed horrible. The fresh strength that theair gave her fanned the courage that still remained with her. Collecting all her force she made a sudden desperate spring, trying toleap clear of the arm that now lay almost loosely about her, herspurred heels tearing the chestnut's flank until he rearedperpendicularly, snorting and trembling. But with a quick sweep of hislong arm the Arab gathered her back into his hold, still strugglingfiercely. His arms were both round her; he was controlling the maddenedhorse only with the pressure of his knees. 

"Doucement, doucement. " She heard the slow, soft voice indistinctly, for he was pressing her head again closely to him, and she did not knowif the words were applied to herself or to the horse. She fought tolift her head, to escape the grip that held her, straining, strivinguntil he spoke again. 

"Lie still, you little fool!" he snarled with sudden vehemence, andwith brutal hands he forced her to obey him, until she wondered if hewould leave a single bone unbroken in her body, till further resistancewas impossible. Gasping for breath she yielded to the strength thatoverpowered her, and ceased to struggle. The man seemed to knowintuitively that she was beaten, and turned his undivided attention tohis horse with the same low laugh of amusement that had sent thestrange feeling through her when her shots had missed him. It hadpuzzled her then, but it grew now with a horrible intensity, until sheknew that it was fear that had come to her for the first time in herlife--a strange fear that she fought against desperately, but which wasgaining on her with a force that was sapping her strength from her andmaking her head reel. She did not faint, but her whole body seemed togrow nerveless with the sudden realisation of the horror of herposition. 

After that Diana lost all sense of time, as she had already lost allsense of direction. She did not know if it was minutes or hours thatpassed as they still galloped swiftly through the night. She did notknow if they were alone or if the band of Arabs to which this manbelonged were riding with them, noiseless over the soft ground. Whathad happened to her guide and his men? Had they been butchered and leftwhere they fell, or were they, too, being hurried unwillingly into someobscure region of the desert? But for the moment the fate of MustafaAli and his companions did not trouble her very much; they had notplayed a very valiant part in the short encounter, and her ownsituation swamped her mind to the exclusion of everything else. 

The sense of fear was growing on her. She scorned and derided it. Shetried to convince herself it did not exist, but it did exist, torturingher with its strangeness and with the thoughts that it engendered. Shehad anticipated nothing like this. She had never thought of acontingency that would end so, that would induce a situation beforewhich her courage was shuddering into pieces with the horror that wasopening up before her--a thing that had always seemed a remoteimpossibility that could never touch her, from even the knowledge ofwhich her life with Aubrey had almost shielded her, but which nowloomed near her, forcing its reality upon her till she trembled andgreat drops of moisture gathered on her forehead. 

The Arab moved her position once, roughly, but she was glad of thechange for it freed her head from the stifling folds of his robes. Hedid not speak again--only once when the chestnut shied violently hemuttered something under his breath. But her satisfaction wasshort-lived. A few minutes afterwards his arm tightened round her oncemore and he twined a fold of his long cloak round her head, blindingher. And then she understood. The galloping horse was pulled in withalmost the same suddenness that had amazed her when she had first seenthe Arabs. She felt him draw her close into his arms and slip down onto the ground; there were voices around her--confused, unintelligible;then they died away as she felt him carry her a few paces. He set herdown and unwound the covering from her face. The light that shonearound her seemed by contrast dazzling with the darkness that had gonebefore. Confused, she clasped her hands over her eyes for a moment andthen looked up slowly. She was in a big, lofty tent, brightly lit bytwo hanging lamps. But she took no heed of her surroundings; her eyeswere fixed on the man who had brought her there. He had flung aside theheavy cloak that enveloped him from head to foot and was standingbefore her, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in white flowing robes, a waistcloth embroidered in black and silver wound several times abouthim, and from the top of which showed a revolver that was thrust intothe folds. 

Diana's eyes passed over him slowly till they rested on his brown, clean-shaven face, surmounted by crisp, close-cut brown hair. It wasthe handsomest and cruellest face that she had ever seen. Her gaze wasdrawn instinctively to his. He was looking at her with fierce burningeyes that swept her until she felt that the boyish clothes that coveredher slender limbs were stripped from her, leaving the beautiful whitebody bare under his passionate stare. 

She shrank back, quivering, dragging the lapels of her riding jackettogether over her breast with clutching hands, obeying an impulse thatshe hardly understood. 

"Who are you?" she gasped hoarsely. 

"I am the Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan. "

The name conveyed nothing. She had never heard it before. She hadspoken without thinking in French, and in French he replied to her. 

"Why have you brought me here?" she asked, fighting down the fear thatwas growing more terrible every moment. 

He repeated her words with a slow smile. "Why have I brought you here?Bon Dieu! Are you not woman enough to know?"

She shrank back further, a wave of colour rushing into her face thatreceded immediately, leaving her whiter than she had been before. Hereyes fell under the kindling flame in his. "I don't know what youmean, " she whispered faintly, with shaking lips. 

"I think you do. " He laughed softly, and his laugh frightened her morethan anything he had said. He came towards her, and although she wasswaying on her feet, desperately she tried to evade him, but with aquick movement he caught her in his arms. 

Terror, agonising, soul-shaking terror such as she had never imagined, took hold of her. The flaming light of desire burning in his eyesturned her sick and faint. Her body throbbed with the consciousness ofa knowledge that appalled her. She understood his purpose with a horrorthat made each separate nerve in her system shrink against theunderstanding that had come to her under the consuming fire of hisardent gaze, and in the fierce embrace that was drawing her shakinglimbs closer and closer against the man's own pulsating body. Shewrithed in his arms as he crushed her to him in a sudden access ofpossessive passion. His head bent slowly down to her, his eyes burneddeeper, and, held immovable, she endured the first kiss she had everreceived. And the touch of his scorching lips, the clasp of his arms, the close union with his warm, strong body robbed her of all strength, of all power of resistance. 

With a great sob her eyes closed wearily, the hot mouth pressed on herswas like a narcotic, drugging her almost into insensibility. Numbly shefelt him gather her high up into his arms, his lips still clingingclosely, and carry her across the tent through curtains into anadjoining room. He laid her down on soft cushions. "Do not make me waittoo long, " he whispered, and left her. 

And the whispered words sent a shock through her that seemed to wrenchher deadened nerves apart, galvanising her into sudden strength. Shesprang up with wild, despairing eyes, and hands clenched franticallyacross her heaving breast; then, with a bitter cry, she dropped on tothe floor, her arms flung out across the wide, luxurious bed. It wasnot true! It was not true! It could not be--this awful thing that hadhappened to her--not to her, Diana Mayo! It was a dream, a ghastlydream that would pass and free her from this agony. Shuddering, sheraised her head. The strange room swam before her eyes. Oh, God! It wasnot a dream. It was real, it was an actual fact from which there was noescape. She was trapped, powerless, defenceless, and behind the heavycurtains near her was the man waiting to claim what he had taken. Anymoment he might come; the thought sent her shivering closer to theground with limbs that trembled uncontrollably. Her courage, that hadfaced dangers and even death without flinching, broke down before thehorror that awaited her. It was inevitable; there was no help to beexpected, no mercy to be hoped for. She had felt the crushing strengthagainst which she was helpless. She would struggle, but it would beuseless; she would fight, but it would make no difference. Within thetent she was alone, ready to his hand like a snared animal; without, the place was swarming with the man's followers. There was nowhere shecould turn, there was no one she could turn to. The certainty of theaccomplishment of what she dreaded crushed her with its surety. Allpower of action was gone. She could only wait and suffer in thecomplete moral collapse that overwhelmed her, and that was renderedgreater by her peculiar temperament. Her body was aching with the gripof his powerful arms, her mouth was bruised with his savage kisses. Sheclenched her hands in anguish. "Oh, God!" she sobbed, with scaldingtears that scorched her cheeks. "Curse him! Curse him!"

And with the words on her lips he came, silent, noiseless, to her side. With his hands on her shoulders he forced her to her feet. His eyeswere fierce, his stern mouth parted in a cruel smile, his deep, slowvoice half angry, half impatiently amused. "Must I be valet, as well aslover?"

CHAPTER III

The warm sunshine was flooding the tent when Diana awoke from the deepsleep of exhaustion that had been almost insensibility, awoke toimmediate and complete remembrance. One quick, fearful glance aroundthe big room assured her that she was alone. She sat up slowly, hereyes shadowy with pain, looking listlessly at the luxuriousappointments of the tent. She looked dry-eyed, she had no tears left. They had all been expended when she had grovelled at his feet imploringthe mercy he had not accorded her. She had fought until the unequalstruggle had left her exhausted and helpless in his arms, until herwhole body was one agonised ache from the brutal hands that forced herto compliance, until her courageous spirit was crushed by therealisation of her own powerlessness, and by the strange fear that theman himself had awakened in her, which had driven her at last moaningto her knees. And the recollection of her abject prayers and weepingsupplications filled her with a burning shame. She loathed herself withbitter contempt. Her courage had broken down; even her pride had failedher. 

She wound her arms about her knees and hid her face against them. "Coward! Coward!" she whispered fiercely. Why had she not scorned him?Or why had she not suffered all that he had done to her in silence? Itwould have pleased him less than the frenzied entreaties that had onlyprovoked the soft laugh that made her shiver each time she heard it. She shivered now. "I thought I was brave, " she murmured brokenly. "I amonly a coward, a craven. "

She lifted her head at last and looked around her. The room was acurious mixture of Oriental luxury and European comfort. The lavishsumptuousness of the furnishings suggested subtly an unrestrainedindulgence, the whole atmosphere was voluptuous, and Diana shrank fromthe impression it conveyed without exactly understanding the reason. There was nothing that jarred artistically, the rich hangings allharmonised, there were no glaring incongruities such as she had seen innative palaces in India. And everything on which her eyes rested drovehome relentlessly the hideous fact of her position. His things wereeverywhere. On a low, brass-topped table by the bed was the half-smokedcigarette he had had between his lips when he came to her. The pillowbeside her still bore the impress of his head. She looked at it with agrowing horror in her eyes until an uncontrollable shuddering seizedher and she cowered down, smothering the cry that burst from her in thesoft pillows and dragging the silken coverings up around her as iftheir thin shelter were a protection. She lived again through everymoment of the past night until thought was unendurable, until she feltthat she would go mad, until at last, worn out, she fell asleep. 

It was midday when she awoke again. This time she was not alone. Ayoung Arab girl was sitting on the rug beside her looking at her withsoft brown eyes of absorbed interest As Diana sat up she rose to herfeet, salaaming, with a timid smile. 

"I am Zilah, to wait on Madame, " she said shyly in stumbling French, holding out a wrap that Diana recognised with wonder as her own. Shelooked behind her. Her suit-cases were lying near her, open, partiallyunpacked. The missing baggage camels had been captured first, then. Shewas at least to be allowed the use of her own belongings. A gleam ofanger shot into her tired eyes and she swung round with a sharpquestion; but the Arab girl shook her head uncomprehendingly, drawingback with frightened eyes; and to all further questions she remainedsilent, with down-drooping mouth like a scared child. She was littlemore. She evidently only half understood what was said to her and couldgive no answer to what she did understand, and turned away with obviousrelief when Diana stopped speaking. She went across the tent and pulledaside a curtain leading into a bathroom that was as big and far betterequipped than the one that Diana had had in the Indian tent, and which, up to now, had seemed the last word in comfort and luxury. Though thegirl's knowledge of French was limited her hands were deft enough, buther ignorance of the intricacies of a European woman's toilette wasvery apparent, and constantly provoked in her a girlish giggle thatchanged hurriedly to a startled gravity when Diana looked at her. Laughter was very far from Diana, but she could not help smiling nowand again at her funny mistakes. 

The girl, with her big, wondering eyes, her shy, hesitating French andchildish curiosity, in some indefinable way gave back to Diana theself-control that had slipped from her. Her pride reasserted itself, rigidly suppressing any sign of feeling or emotion that could benoticed by the gentle, inquisitive eyes fixed on her. 

The hot bath that took the soreness out of her limbs brought back thecolour to her face and lips. She even tubbed her head, rubbing theglistening curls dry with fierce vigour, striving to rid herself of thecontamination that seemed to have saturated her. Yet the robes againstwhich they had been pressed were spotless, and the hands that had heldher were fastidiously clean, even to the well-kept nails. 

She came back into the bedroom to find Zilah on her knees poring overher scanty but diverse wardrobe with bewilderment, fingering theevening dresses with shy hands, and finally submitting tentatively toDiana the tweed skirt that had been packed with her other things forthe journey when Oran should be reached. But Diana put it aside, andpointed to the riding clothes she had worn the previous day. In themshe felt more able to face what might be before her, the associationsconnected with them seemed to give her moral strength, in them shewould feel herself again--Diana the boy, not the shivering piece ofwomanhood that had been born with tears and agony last night. She bither lip as she stamped her foot down into the long boot. 

She sent the girl away at last, and noticed that she avoided passinginto the adjoining room, but vanished instead through the curtainsleading into the bathroom. Did that mean that in the outer room theArab Sheik was waiting? The thought banished the self-control she hadregained and sent her weakly on to the side of the bed with her facehidden in her hands. Was he there? Her questions to the littlewaiting-girl had only been concerned with the whereabouts of the campto which she had been brought and also of the fate of the caravan; ofthe man himself she had not been able to bring herself to speak. Thestrange fear that he had inspired in her filled her with rage andhumiliation. The thought of seeing him again brought a shame that wasunspeakable. But she conquered the agitation that threatened to growbeyond restraint, pride helping her again. It was better to face theinevitable of her own free will than be fetched whether she would ornot. For she knew now the strength of the man who had abducted her, knew that physically she was helpless against him. She raised her headand listened. It was very silent in the next room. Perhaps she was tobe allowed a further respite. She jerked her head impatiently at herown hesitation. "Coward!" she whispered again contemptuously, and flungacross the room. But at the curtains she halted for a moment, then withset face drew them aside and went through. 

The respite had been granted, the room appeared to be empty. But as shecrossed the thick rugs her heart leapt suddenly into her throat, forshe became aware of a man standing in the open doorway. His back wasturned to her, but in a moment she saw that the short, slim figure inwhite linen European clothes bore no resemblance to the tall Arab shehad expected to see. She thought her footsteps were noiseless, but heturned with a little quick bow. A typical Frenchman with narrow, alert, clean-shaven face, sleek black hair and dark restless eyes. His legswere slightly bowed and he stooped a little; his appearance was that ofa jockey with the manners of a well-trained servant. Diana colouredhotly under his glance, but his eyes were lowered instantly. 

"Madame is doubtless ready for lunch. " He spoke rapidly, but his voicewas low and pleasant. His movements were as quick and as quiet as hisvoice, and in a dream Diana found herself in a few moments before alunch that was perfectly cooked and daintily served. The man hoveredabout her solicitously, attending to her wants with dexterous hands andwatchful eyes that anticipated every need. She was bewildered, faintfrom want of food, everything seemed unreal. For the moment she couldjust sit still and be waited on by the soft-footed, soft-spokenmanservant who seemed such a curious adjunct to the household of anArab chief. 

"Monseigneur begs that you will excuse him until this evening. He willreturn in time for dinner, " he murmured as he handed her a cous-cous. 

Diana looked up blankly. "Monseigneur?"

"My master. The Sheik. "

She flushed scarlet and her face hardened. Hypocritical, Oriental beastwho "begged to be excused"! She refused the last dish curtly, and asthe servant carried it away she propped her elbows on the table andrested her aching head on her hands. A headache was among the newexperiences that had overwhelmed her since the day before. Suffering inany form was new to her, and her hatred of the man who had made hersuffer grew with every breath she drew. 

The Frenchman came back with coffee and cigarettes. He held a match forher, coaxing the reluctant flame with patience that denoted longexperience with inferior sulphur. 

"Monseigneur dines at eight. At what hour will Madame have tea?" heasked, as he cleared away and folded up the table. 

Diana choked back the sarcastic retort that sprang to her lips. Theman's quiet, deferential manner, that refused to see anythingextraordinary in her presence in his master's camp, was almost harderto bear than flagrant impertinence would have been. That she could havedealt with; this left her tingling with a feeling of impotence, as if anet were gradually closing round her in whose entangling meshes hervaunted liberty was not only threatened, but which seemed destined evento stifle her very existence. She pulled her racing thoughts up with ajerk. She must not think if she was going to keep any hold over herselfat all. She gave him an answer indifferently and turned her back onhim. When she looked again he was gone, and she heaved a sigh ofrelief. She had chafed under his watchful eyes until the feeling ofrestraint had grown unbearable. 

She breathed more freely now that he was gone, flinging up her head andjerking her shoulders back with an angry determination to conquer thefear that made her ashamed. Natural curiosity had been struggling withher other emotions, and she gave way to it now to try and turn thechannel of her thoughts from the fixed direction in which they tended, and wandered round the big room. The night before she had taken innothing of her surroundings, her eyes had been held only by the man whohad dominated everything. Here, also, were the same luxuriousappointments as in the sleeping-room. She had knowledge enough toappreciate that the rugs and hangings were exquisite, the former werePersian and the latter of a thick black material, heavily embroideredin silver. The main feature of the room was a big black divan heapedwith huge cushions covered with dull black silk. Beside the divan, spread over the Persian rugs, were two unusually large black bearskins, the mounted heads converging. At one end of the tent was a smalldoorway, a little portable writing-table. There were one or two Moorishstools heaped with a motley collection of ivories and gold and silvercigarette cases and knick-knacks, and against the partition thatseparated the two rooms stood a quaintly carved old wooden chest. Though the furniture was scanty and made the tent seem even morespacious than it really was, the whole room had an air of barbaricsplendour. The somber hangings gleaming with thick silver threadsseemed to Diana like a studied theatrical effect, a setting againstwhich the Arab's own white robes should contrast more vividly; sheremembered the black and silver waistcloth she had seen swathed roundhim, with curling scornful lip. There was a strain of vanity in allnatives, she generalised contemptuously. Doubtless it pleased thisnative's conceit to carry out the colour scheme of his tent even in hisclothes, and pose among the sable cushions of the luxurious divan tothe admiration of his retainers. She made a little exclamation ofdisgust, and turned from the soft seductiveness of the big couch withdisdain. 

She crossed the tent to the little bookcase and knelt beside itcuriously. What did a Francophile-Arab read? Novels, probably, thatwould harmonise with the atmosphere that she dimly sensed in hersurroundings. But it was not novels that filled the bookcase. They werebooks of sport and travel with several volumes on veterinary surgery. They were all in French, and had all been frequently handled, many ofthem had pencilled notes in the margins written in Arabic. One shelfwas filled entirely with the works of one man, a certain Vicomte Raoulde Saint Hubert. With the exception of one novel, which Diana onlyglanced at hastily; they were all books of travel. From the fewscribbled words in the front of each Diana could see that they had allbeen sent to the Arab by the author himself--one even was dedicated to"My friend, Ahmed Ben Hassan, Sheik of the Desert. " She put the booksback with a puzzled frown. She wished, with a feeling that she couldnot fathom, that they had been rather what she had imagined. Theevidence of education and unlooked-for tastes in the man they belongedto troubled her. It was an unexpected glimpse into the personality ofthe Arab that had captured her was vaguely disquieting, for itsuggested possibilities that would not have existed in a raw native, orone only superficially coated with a veneer of civilisation. He seemedto become infinitely more sinister, infinitely more horrible. Shelooked at her watch with sudden apprehension. The day was wearing awayquickly. Soon he would come. Her breath came quick and short and thetears welled up in her eyes. 

"I mustn't! I mustn't!" she whispered in a kind of desperation. "If Icry again I shall go mad. " She forced them back, and crossing to thebig black divan that she had scorned before dropped down among the softcushions. She was so tired, and her head throbbed persistently. 

She was asleep when the servant brought tea, but she started up as heput the tray on a stool beside her. 

"It is Madame's own tea. If she will be good enough to say if it ismade to her taste, " he said anxiously, as if his whole happiness wascontained in the tiny teapot at which he was frowning deprecatingly. 

His assiduity jarred on Diana's new-found jangling nerves. Sherecognised that he was sincere in his efforts to please her, but justnow they only seemed an added humiliation. She longed to shout "Goaway!" like an angry schoolboy, but she managed to give him theinformation he wanted, and putting cigarettes and matches by her hewent out with a little smile of satisfaction. The longing for fresh airand the desire to see what place she had been brought to grewirresistible as the evening came nearer. She went to the open doorway. A big awning stretched before it, supported on lances. She stepped outfrom under its shade and looked about her wonderingly. It was a bigoasis--bigger than any she had seen. In front of the tent there was anopen space with a thick belt of palm trees beyond. The rest of the camplay behind the Chief's tent. The place was alive with men and horses. There were some camels in the distance, but it was the horses thatstruck Diana principally. They were everywhere, some tethered; somewandering loose, some exercising in the hands of grooms. Mounted Arabson the outskirts of the oasis crossed her view occasionally. There weregroups of men engaged on various duties all around her. Those who wentby near her salaamed as they passed, but took no further notice of her. A strange look came into Diana's eyes. This was the desert indeed, thedesert as she had never expected to see it, the desert as few couldexpect to see it. But the cost! She shuddered, then turned at a suddennoise near her. A biting, screaming chestnut fury was coming past closeto the tent, taking complete charge of the two men who clung, yelling, to his head. He was stripped, but Diana recognised him at once. The onebrief view she had had of his small, vicious head as he shot past herelbow the evening before was written on her brain for all time. He cameto a halt opposite Diana, refusing to move, his ears laid close to hishead, quivering all over, snatching continually at his grooms, whoseemed unable to cope with him. Once he swung up on his hind legs andhis cruel teeth flashed almost into the face of one of the men, who wastaken off his guard, and who dropped on to the ground, rolling out ofthe way with a howl that provoked a shout of laughter from a knot ofArabs who had gathered to watch the usual evening eccentricities of thechestnut. The French servant, coming from behind the tent, stopped tospeak to the man as he picked himself up and made a grab at the horse'shead, and then turned to Diana with his pleasant smile. 

"He is rightly named Shaitan, Madame, for he is assuredly possessed ofa devil, " he said, indicating the chestnut, who, at that moment, with aviolent plunge, broke away from the men who were holding him and headedfor the edge of the oasis with the Arabs streaming after him. "Themounted men will catch him, " he added with a little laugh, in responseto Diana's exclamation. 

"Is he amusing himself, or is it really vice?" she asked. 

"Pure vice, Madame. He has killed three men. "

Diana looked at him incredulously, for his tone was casual and hismanner did not indicate any undue feeling. 

"He ought to be shot, " she said indignantly. 

The man shrugged. "Monseigneur is fond of him, " he said quietly. 

And so because Monseigneur was fond of him the vicious animal wassurrounded with every care that his master's pleasure might not beinterfered with. Evidently the lives of his wretched people were ofless value to him than that of a favourite horse. It sounded compatiblewith the mercilessness she had herself experienced. What she would nothave believed yesterday to-day seemed terribly credible. The couragethat the relief of his absence brought back was sinking fast, as fastas the red ball glowing in the heavens was sinking down towards thehorizon. She turned from her own fearful thoughts to look at some morehorses that were being led away to the lines on the other side of thecamp. 

"The horses are magnificent, but they are bigger than any Arabs I haveseen before. "

"They are a special breed, Madame, " replied the Frenchman. "The tribehas been famous for them for generations. Monseigneur's horses areknown through all the Barbary States, and as far as France, " he added, with a little accent of pride creeping into his voice. 

Diana looked at him speculatively. There was an inflection in his voiceeach time he mentioned his master that indicated a devotion that shewas unable to accredit to the brute for whose treatment she was stillsuffering. But her thoughts were broken into abruptly. 

"There is Monseigneur, " said the servant suddenly. He spoke as if she, too, must be glad of his coming. Did the valet imagine for one momentthat she was here of her own free will? Or was it all a part of thehypocrisy in which she seemed to be enveloped? She flashed one glanceat the horseman riding through the belt of trees that fringed the oasisand an icy perspiration chilled her from head to foot. She shrank backunder the awning and into the coolness of the tent, raging against themastering fear that she could not overcome. But just inside the opendoorway she stood firm; even her fear could make her go no further. Shewould meet him here, not cowering into the inner room like a tremblingcreature skulking in the furthest corner of its cage. That much prideat least was left. 

From the shelter of the tent she watched the troop arrive at the openspace before her. The horse the Sheik was riding was jet black, andDiana looked from the beautiful creature's satiny coat to the man'swhite robes with angry contempt. 

"Black and white! Black and white! Mountebank!" she muttered throughher clenched teeth. Then as he swung to the ground every thought fellfrom her but the terror he inspired. She waited, breathless, the swiftracing of her heart an actual physical pain. 

He lingered, fondling the great black horse, and even after it had beenled away he stood looking after it, talking to a tall young Arab whohad ridden in with him. At last he turned and came leisurely towardsthe tent. He paused at the door to speak to the Frenchman, apicturesque, barbaric figure, with flowing robes and great white cloak, the profile of his lean face clean cut against the evening sky, thehaughty poise of his head emphasised by the attitude in which he wasstanding, arrogant, dominating. He moved his hands when he spoke withquick, expressive gestures, but his voice was slow and soft, pitched ina deep musical key, but with all its softness unmistakablyauthoritative. He pointed with outstretched, steady hand to somethingbeyond her line of vision, and as he turned to enter the tent helaughed softly, and she shivered involuntarily. Then he swept in, andshe drew back from him with lowered eyes. She would not look at him;she would not meet his look. His presence was an offence, she wasscorched with shame. Every fibre of her being cried out in protest athis proximity. She wished with passionate fierceness that she coulddie. She shook feverishly and caught her quivering lip between herteeth to keep it still, and the red-gold curls lay wet against herforehead. Her breast heaved stormily with the rapid beating of herheart, but she held herself proudly erect. He crossed the tent with along noiseless stride. 

"I hope that Gaston took care of you properly and gave you everythingthat you wanted?" he said easily, stooping to a little table to light acigarette. The coolness of his words and manner were like a dash ofcold water. She had been prepared for anything but this calmnonchalance in a situation that was intolerable. His tone conveyed theperfunctory regret of a host for an unavoidable absence. Her fear gaveway to rage, her body stiffened, her hands clenched. 

"Is it not time that this ended? Haven't you done enough?" she burstout passionately. "Why have you committed this outrage?"

A thin thread of smoke drifted towards her, as if the hand holding thecigarette had moved in her direction in one of the gestures that shehad noticed outside, but there was no answer. His silence infuriatedher and she grew utterly reckless. 

"Do you think that you can keep me here, you fool? That I can vanishinto the desert and no notice be taken of my disappearance--that noinquiries will be made?"

"There will be no inquiries, " he answered calmly. 

She ground the heel of her boot into the soft carpet. "There_will_ be inquiries, " she choked furiously. "I am not such anonentity that nothing will be done when I am missed. The Englishauthorities will make the French Government find out who isresponsible, and you will have to pay for what you have done. "

He laughed--the little amused laugh that sent the same cold feeling ofdread through her that she had felt the day before. 

"The French Government has no jurisdiction over me. I am not subject toit. I am an independent chief, my own master. I recognise nogovernment. My tribe obey me and only me. "

Her shaking fingers found the handkerchief for which they were groping, and she wiped the moisture that had gathered on the palms of her hands. 

"When I am missed----" she began desperately, trying to keep a boldfront, but her assurance was leaving her. 

"You will not be missed for so long that it will be too late, " hereplied drily. 

"Too late! What do you mean?" she gasped. 

"Your own plans will stop any possibility of inquiry for some time tocome. " He paused, and behind her, Diana heard him strike another match. The banal little incident nearly snapped her nerves that were stretchedto breaking-point. She put her hands to her head to try and stop thethrobbing in her temples. 

"You engaged a caravan in charge of Mustafa Ali, " he went on evenly, "to travel in the desert for a month. You set out from Biskra, but yourintention was at the end of the time to travel northward to Oran andthere dismiss the caravan. From there you were to cross to Marseilles, then to Cherbourg, where you would embark for America to follow yourbrother, who has already started. "

She listened breathlessly with an ever-increasing fear growing in hereyes. The slow, casual voice detailing her itinerary with the quietcertainty of perfect knowledge filled her with a terror that made herwant to scream. She swayed a little as she stood, her eyes fixed on theendless strip of desert and gold-flecked sky visible through theopening of the tent, but she saw nothing of the undulating sand, northe red glory of the setting sun. 

"How do you know--all--this?" she whispered with dry lips thattrembled. 

"I wished to know. It was quite simple. " The answer was givencarelessly, and again the thin thread of smoke drifted across her face. 

Her anger flamed up again. "Is it money that you want? Are you holdingme for ransom?" But her scornful voice faltered and died away on thelast word, and it did not need his silence to convince her that it wasno question of ransom. She had only spoken to try and stifle the innerconviction that grew despite her efforts to crush it. Her hands werelocked together tightly, her eyes still staring out unseeing at thewonderful sunset. She felt dazed, hopeless, like a fugitive who hasturned into a cul-de-sac, hemmed in on every side; there seemed no wayout, no loophole of escape. She wrung her hands convulsively and agreat shudder shook her. Then in her despair a faint ray of hope came. 

"Mustafa Ali, or one of the caravan men may have given the alarmalready in Biskra--if you have not--murdered them all, " she whisperedjerkily. 

"I have not murdered them all, " he rejoined shortly, "but Mustafa Aliwill not give any alarm in Biskra. "

"Why?" She tried to keep silent, but the question was forced from her, and she waited tense for his answer. Tales of ruthless Arab crueltysurged through her mind. What had been the fate of the unfortunatecaravan leader? Her eyes closed and her throat grew dry. 

"There was no need for any murder, " he continued sarcastically. "Whenyou come to know me better you will realise that I do not leave toomuch to chance. 'All things are with Allah, blessed be his name. ' Good!But it is well to remember that Allah does not always concern himselfwith the affairs of men, and arrange accordingly. If I had left thisaffair to chance there might very easily have been, as you suggest, murder done--though we do not call it murder in the desert. It was verysimple. _Voyons_! You paid Mustafa Ali well to guide you in thedesert. I paid him better to lead you to me. I paid him well enough tomake him content to remove himself from Biskra, where awkward questionsmight be asked, to another sphere of usefulness where he is not known, and where he can build up for himself a new reputation as a caravanleader. "

There was another silence and her hands went groping to her throat. Ithad been no chance affair then--no accidental meeting that the Arabchief had turned to his own account, but an organised outrage that hadbeen carefully planned from the beginning. From the very outset she hadbeen a dupe. She ground her teeth with rage. Her suave, subservientguide had been leading her the whole time, not in the direction thathad been mapped out in Biskra, but towards the man who had bought himto betray his trust. Mustafa Ali's shifting eyes, his desire to hurryher from the oasis where they had rested at mid-day, his tone were allexplained. He had acted well. The last touch--the imaginary wound thathad toppled him slowly out of his saddle had been a masterpiece, shereflected bitterly. Nothing had been omitted to make the attempt asuccess. The horse that had been given her to ride was the Sheik'sbeyond all doubt, trained to his whistle. Even her revolver had beentampered with. She had not missed, as she had thought. She rememberedthe noise, the fleeting vision she had had in the hotel at Biskra. Ithad been some one in her room, Mustafa Ali himself, or one of his men, who had stolen in and substituted the blank cartridges. The possibilityof Aubrey changing his mind and accompanying her must also have beenthought of, for the Sheik had provided against the resistance thatwould certainly have then been made by the number of followers he hadbrought with him--a large enough force to frustrate easily anyattempted opposition to the attack. 

The net that she had felt closing round her earlier in the afternoonseemed wrapped round her now inextricably, drawing tighter and tighter, smothering her. She gasped for breath. The sinking sun seemed suddenlyto leap up wildly into the heavens; then she pulled herself togetherwith a tremendous effort. "Why have you done this?" she murmuredfaintly. 

Then for a moment her heart stood still, her eyes dilating. He had comeclose behind her, and she waited in an agony, until he caught her tohim, crushing her against him, forcing her head back on his arm. 

"Because I wanted you. Because one day in Biskra, four weeks ago, I sawyou for a few moments, long enough to know that I wanted you. And whatI want I take. You played into my hands. You arranged a tour in thedesert. The rest was easy. "

Her eyes were shut, the long dark lashes quivering on her pale cheeksso that she could not see his face, but she felt him draw her closer tohim and then his fierce kisses on her mouth. She struggled frantically, but she was helpless, and he laughed softly as he kissed her lips, herhair, her eyes passionately. He stood quite still, but she felt theheavy beating of his heart under her cheek, and understood dimly thepassion that she had aroused in him. She had experienced his tremendousstrength. She realised from what he had told her that he recognised nolaw beyond his own wishes, and was prepared to go to any lengths tofulfil them. She knew that her life was in his hands, that he couldbreak her with his lean brown fingers like a toy is broken, and all atonce she felt pitifully weak and frightened. She was utterly in hispower and at his mercy--the mercy of an Arab who was merciless. 

She gave in suddenly, lying quiet in his arms. She had touched thelowest depths of degradation; he could do nothing more to her than hehad done. For the moment she could fight no further, she was worn outand utterly weary. A numb feeling of despair came over her and with ita sense of unreality, as if it were a hideous nightmare from which shewould wake, for the truth seemed too impossible, the setting tootheatrical. The man himself was a mystery. She could not reconcile himand the barbaric display in which he lived with the evidences ofrefinement and education that the well-worn books in the tent evinced. The fastidious ordering of his appointments puzzled her; it was strangeto find in such a place. A dozen incongruities that she had noticedduring the day crowded into her recollection until her head reeled. Sheturned from them wearily; she was too tired to think, too spent in mindand body. And with the despair a kind of indifference stole over her. She had suffered so much that nothing more mattered. 

The strong arms around her tightened slowly. "Look at me, " he said inthe soft slow voice that seemed habitual to him, and which contrastedoddly with the neat, clipping French that he spoke. She shivered andher dark lashes flickered for a moment. "Look at me. " His voice wasjust as slow, just as soft, but into it had crept an inflection thatwas unmistakable. 

Twenty-four hours ago Diana Mayo had not known the meaning of the wordfear, and had never in all her life obeyed any one against herinclination, but in twenty-four hours she had lived through years ofemotions. For the first time she had pitted her will against a willthat was stronger than her own, for the first time she had met anarrogance that was greater and a determination that was firmer thanhers. For the first time she had met a man who had failed to bow to herwishes, whom a look had been powerless to transform into a willingslave. In a few hours that had elapsed she had learned fear, a terriblefear that left her sick with apprehension, and she was learningobedience. Obedient now, she forced herself to lift her eyes to his, and the shamed blood surged slowly into her cheeks. His dark, passionate eyes burnt into her like a hot flame. His encircling armswere like bands of fire, scorching her. His touch was torture. Helpless, like a trapped wild thing, she lay against him, panting, trembling, her wide eyes fixed on him, held against their will. Fascinated she could not turn them away, and the image of the brown, handsome face with its flashing eyes, straight, cruel mouth and strongchin seemed searing into her brain. The faint indefinite scent of anuncommon Turkish tobacco clung about him, enveloping her. She had beenconscious of the same scent the previous day when he had held her inhis arms during the wild ride across the desert. 

He smiled down at her suddenly. "_Bon Dieu_! Do you know howbeautiful you are?" he murmured. But the sound of his voice seemed tobreak a spell that had kept her dumb. She struggled again to freeherself. 

"Let me go!" she cried piteously, and it was her complete immunity fromhim that she prayed for, but he chose wilfully to misunderstand her. The passion faded from his eyes, giving place to a gleam of mockery. 

"There is plenty of time. Gaston is the most discreet servant. We shallhear him when he comes, " he said with a low laugh. 

But she persisted with the courage of desperation. "When will you letme go?"

With an exclamation of impatience he put her from him roughly, andgoing to the divan flung himself down on the cushions, lit anothercigarette and picked up a magazine that was lying on an inlaid stoolbeside him. 

She bit her lips to keep back the hysterical sobs that rose in herthroat, nerving herself with clenched hands, and followed him. "You_must_ tell me. I _must_ know. When will you let me go?"

He turned a page with deliberation, and flicked the ash from hiscigarette before looking up. A heavy scowl gathered on his face, andhis eyes swept her from head to foot with a slow scrutiny that made hershrink. "When I am tired of you, " he said coldly. 

She shuddered violently and turned away with a little moan, stumblingblindly towards the inner room, but as she reached the curtains hisvoice arrested her. He had thrown aside the magazine and was lying backon the divan, his long limbs stretched out indolently, his handsclasped behind his head. 

"You make a very charming boy, " he said lightly, with a faint smile, "but it was not a boy that I saw in Biskra. You understand?"

Beyond the curtains she stood a moment, shaking all over, her facehidden in her hands, able to relax a little the hold she was keeping onherself. Yes! She understood, plainly enough. The understanding hadalready been forced upon her. It was an order from one who was preparedto compel his commands, to make herself more attractive with all thatit implied in the eyes of the man who held her in his power and wholooked at her as no other man had ever dared to look, with appraisingcriticism that made her acutely conscious of her sex, that made herfeel like a slave exposed for sale in a public market. 

She must take off the boyish clothes that somehow seemed to lend hercourage and substitute, to gratify the whim of the savage in the nextroom, the womanly dress that revealed more intimately the slender linesof her figure and intensified the uncommon beauty of her face. 

She went to the dressing table with lagging feet and stared resentfullyat the white face and haggard eyes that looked back at her from themirror. It was like the face of a stranger. Aubrey's words came back toher with an irony that was horrible. To-night she did not dress toplease herself. Her face was set, her eyes almost black with rage, butbehind the rage there was lurking apprehension. She started at everysound that came from the adjoining room. Her fingers, wet withperspiration, seemed almost unable to fulfil their task. She hated him, she hated herself, she hated her beauty that had brought this horrorupon her. She would have rebelled if she had dared, but instinctivelyshe hurried--fear had already driven her so far. But when she was readyshe did not move from the table beside which she stood. Fear had forcedher to haste, but her still struggling pride would not permit her toobey her fear any further. She raised her eyes to the glass again, glowering angrily at the pale reflection, and the old obstinacy mingledwith the new pain that filled them. Must she endure his mocking glancewith chalk-like cheeks and eyes like a beaten hound? Had she not evencourage enough left to hide the fear that filled her withself-contempt? The wave of anger that went through her rushed thecolour into her face and she leaned nearer the glass with a littlemurmur of satisfaction that stopped abruptly as her fingers gripped theedge of the table, and she continued staring into the mirror not at herown face, but at the white robes that appeared behind her head, blotting out the limited view she had had of the room. 

The Sheik was standing behind her. He had come with the peculiarnoiseless tread that she had noticed before. He swung her round to lookat her and she writhed under his eyes of admiration, straining from himas far as his grip allowed. Holding her with one hand he took her chinin the other and tilted her face up to his with a little smile. "Don'tlook so frightened. I don't want anything more deadly than some soapand water. Surely even an Arab may be allowed to wash his hands?"

His mocking voice and his taunt of fear stung her, but she would notanswer and, with a laugh and a shrug, he lot her go, picking up a razorfrom the table and lounging into the bathroom. 

With crimson cheeks Diana fled into the outer room, His manner couldnot have been more casual if she had been his wife a dozen years. Shewaited for him in a tumult of emotions, but with the advent of Gastonand dinner he returned to the attitude of dispassionate, courteous hostthat he had assumed when he first came in. He was a few minutes late, and apologised gravely as he sat down opposite her. He maintained theattitude throughout dinner, and conscious of the watching manservantDiana made herself reply to his easy conversation. 

He talked mainly of the desert and the sport that it offered, as if hehad studied her tastes and chosen the topic to please her. He spokewell; what he said was interesting, and showed complete knowledge ofthe subject, and at any other time Diana would have listened fascinatedand absorbed, but now the soft, slow, cultured voice only seemed to addto the incongruity of the situation. The role of willing guest that hewas forcing upon her was almost more than she could play, and thenecessity of sitting still and responding was taxing her endurance tothe utmost. And all the time she was aware acutely of his constantsurveillance. Reluctantly her own furtive glance was drawn frequentlyto his face, and always his dark fierce eyes were watching her with asteadiness that racked her nerves, till she was reminded irresistiblyof an exhibition that she had seen in a circus in Vienna, where a liontamer had concluded an unusually daring performance by dining in thelions' cage, surrounded by savage snarling brutes very different fromthe sleepy half-drugged creatures ordinarily shown. Interested in theanimals, she had gone behind with Aubrey after the performance, andwhile fondling some tiny lion cubs that had been brought for her to seehad chatted with the tamer, a girl little older than herself. She hadbeen somewhat unapproachable until she had realised from Diana'sfriendly manner that her questions were prompted by real interest andnot mere curiosity, and had unbent with surprising swiftness, acceptingDiana's proffered cigarettes and taking her to see her special lions, who were boxed for the night. Diana had wandered up and down before thenarrow cages, looking at the big brutes still restless from the show, rubbing her cheek on the soft little round head of the cub she washolding in her arms, smiling at its sleepy rasping purr. 

"Are you ever afraid?" she had asked suddenly--"not of the ordinaryperformance, but of that last act, when you dine all alone with them?"

The girl shrugged her shoulders, blowing a little cloud of smoke intothe cub's face, and her eyes had met Diana's slowly over his littleyellow body. "One does not taste very much, " she had said drily. 

And it was so with Diana. She had eaten mechanically everything thathad been put before her, but she had tasted nothing. She had onethought in her mind that excluded everything else--to hide from theprobing eyes that watched her ceaselessly the overmastering fear thataugmented every moment. One thing she had noticed during the meal. Forher only the servant poured out the light French wine that he hadbrought. Her eyes wandered to the Sheik's empty glass, and meeting herglance he smiled, with a little inclination. 

"Excuse me. I do not drink wine. It is my only virtue, " he added, witha sudden gleam leaping into his eyes that drove the blood into hercheeks and her own eyes on to her plate. 

She had forgotten that he was an Arab. 

The dinner seemed interminable, and yet she wished that it would neverend. While the servant was in the room she was safe; the thought of hisgoing sent a cold shudder through her. With the coffee came a hugePersian hound, almost upsetting the Frenchman in the entrance in hisfrantic endeavour to precede him through the doorway. He flung his longgrey body across the Sheik's knees with a whine of pleasure and thenturned his head to growl at Diana. But the growl died away quickly, andhe lumbered down and came to her side curiously, eyeing her for amoment and then thrusting his big head against her. 

The Sheik laughed. "You are honoured. Kopec makes few friends. "

She did not answer. The natural reply was almost certain to provoke aretort that she did not desire, so she remained silent, smoothing thehound's rough coat. With her heart turning slowly to lead she lingeredover her coffee until there was no further possible pretext forremaining at the table, then rose with a short, sharp sigh. 

For some minutes the Sheik had sat silent, his own coffee long sincefinished. He made no comment when she got up, and went himself to thebig divan, followed by the hound, who had gone back to him as soon ashe moved. 

Diana turned to the little bookcase, snatching at the opportunity itoffered for further silence, and took a book at random. She did notknow what she was looking at, she did not care. She only prayedfervently that she might be left alone, that the sudden silent fit thathad come over him might continue. 

Near her Gaston was clearing away the table and as he finished hepaused to speak to his master. Diana heard the words "le petit Sheik, "but the rest was in Arabic and unintelligible to her. The Sheik frownedwith a gesture of annoyance, then nodded, and the servant left thetent. 

A few moments after a voice that she had not heard before made her lookup. 

The young Arab who had ridden in with the Sheik was standing beside thedivan. The fierce eyes that were watching her every movement met hers, and his cigarette was waved towards the young man. "My lieutenant, Yusef, a son of the desert with the soul of a _flaneur. _ His bodyis here with me, but his heart is on the _trottoirs_ of Algiers. "

The tall lad laughed and salaamed profoundly, then straightenedhimself, posing magnificently until a curt word from the Sheik recalledhim to his errand and his swagger changed swiftly to a deference ofwhich the significance was not lost on Diana. The Arab might unbend tohis people if it so pleased him, but he kept them well in hand. Shelooked at the lieutenant as he stood before his chief. He was tall andslender as a girl, with an air of languid indolence that was obviouslya pose, for it was slipping from him now fast as he talked. His facewas strikingly handsome, only saved from effeminacy by a firm chin. Hewas patently aware of his good looks. But he was also patently in aweof his chief, and the news that he brought was apparently not welcome. 

Through her thick lashes Diana watched them intently. The younger manvoluble, gesticulating, at times almost cringing. The Sheik silent, except for an occasional word, the heavy scowl back on his face, growing blacker every moment. At last with a shrug of impatience he gotup and they went out together, the hound following them. Diana subsidedon to the thick rug beside the bookcase. For a moment again she wasalone, free of the watching eyes that seemed to be burning into her allthe time, free of the hated proximity. She dropped her head on herknees with a little whimper of weariness. For a moment she need notcheck the tide of misery that rushed over her. She was tired in mindand body, exhausted with the emotion that had shaken her until she knewthat no matter what happened in the future the Diana of yesterday wasdead, and her new self was strange and unfamiliar. She did not trustit; she feared its capacity for maintaining the struggle she hadresolved upon. The old courageous self had never failed her, this newshrinking fearful personality filled her with distrust. Her confidencein herself was gone. Her contempt of herself was unutterable. Thestrength that remained was not sufficient to conquer the fear that hadtaken so strong a hold upon her. She could only hope to hide it, todeny him at least that much satisfaction. She had grovelled at his feetonce and it had amused him. He had laughed! She would die rather thanafford him a similar amusement. She could never wipe out therecollection of her cowardice; he would remember always, and so wouldshe; but she could atone for it if her strength held. And she prayedthat it might hold, until a sob broke from her and her hands crampedaround her knees. She pushed her hair off her forehead with a heavysigh, and she looked back over her shoulder at the empty room. It hadchanged since this morning in the indefinable way a strange room doeschange after a few hours' association. If she could leave it now andnever see it again in all her life no single detail of it would ever beforgotten. Its characteristics had been stamped upon her as familiarlyas if the hours passed in it had been years. And yesterday was yearsago, when the poor silly fool that had been Diana Mayo had riddenblindly into the trap from which her boasted independence had not beenable to save her. She had paid heavily for the determination to ignorethe restrictions of her sex laid upon her and the payment was not yetover. Her tired body shrank from the struggle that must recommence sosoon. If he would only spare her until this numbing weariness that madeher so powerless should lessen. She heard his voice at the door and hericy fingers grasped at the book that had slipped to the ground. Thethick rugs deadened the sound of his movements, but she knewinstinctively that he had come in and gone back to the divan where hehad been sitting before. She knew that he was looking at her. She couldfeel his eyes fixed on her and she quivered with the consciousness ofhis stare. She waited, shivering, for him to speak or move. His methodsof torture were diverse, she thought with dreary bitterness. Behind thetent in the men's lines a tom-tom was beating, and the irregular rhythmseemed hammering inside her own head. She could have shrieked with theagony of it. 

"Come here--Diane. "

She started, for a moment hardly recognising the Gallic rendering ofher name, and then flushed angrily without answering or moving. It wasa very little thing to stir her after all that had been done, but theuse of her name flamed the anger that had been almost swamped in fear. The proprietory tone in his voice roused all her inherent obstinacy. She was not his to go at his call. What he wanted he must take--shewould never give voluntarily. She sat with her hands gripped tightly inher lap, breathing rapidly, her eyes dark with apprehension. 

"Come here, " he repeated sharply. 

Still she took no notice, but the face that he could not see wasgrowing very white. 

"I am not accustomed to having my orders disobeyed, " he said at last, very slowly. 

"And I am not accustomed to obeying orders, " she retorted fiercely, though her lips were trembling. 

"You will learn. " The sinister accent of his voice almost shattered herremaining courage. 

She crouched, gasping, on the ground, the same horrible terror that hadcome to her last night stealing over her irresistibly, paralysing her. Waiting, listening, agonising, the tom-tom growing louder andlouder--or was it only the throbbing in her own head? With a chokingcry she leaped to her feet suddenly and fled from him, back till theside of the tent stopped her and she stood, with wide-flung arms, gripping the black and silver hangings until he reached her. 

Stooping he disengaged her clinging fingers from the heavy drapery anddrew her hands slowly together up to his breast with a little smile. "Come, " he whispered, his passionate eyes devouring her. 

She fought against the fascination with which they dominated her, resisting him dumbly with tight-locked lips till he held herpalpitating in his arms. 

"Little fool, " he said with a deepening smile. "Better me than my men. "

The gibe broke her silence. 

"Oh, you brute! You brute!" she wailed, until his kisses silenced her. 

CHAPTER IV

"A month! Thirty-one days! Oh, God! Only thirty-one days. It seems alifetime. Only a month since I left Biskra. A month! A month!"

Diana flung herself on to her face, burying her head deeply into thecushions of the divan, shutting out from her sight the barbaric luxuryof her surroundings, shuddering convulsively. She did not cry. Thecomplete breakdown of the first night had never been repeated. Tears ofshame and anger had risen in her eyes often, but she would not let themfall. She would not give her captor the satisfaction of knowing that hecould make her weep. Her pride was dying hard. Her mind travelled backslowly over the days and nights of anguished revolt, the perpetualclash of will against will, the enforced obedience that had made upthis month of horror. A month of experience of such bitterness that shewondered dully how she still had the courage to rebel. For the firsttime in her life she had had to obey. For the first time in her lifeshe was of no account. For the first time she had been made consciousof the inferiority of her sex. The training of years had broken downunder the experience. The hypothetical status in which she had stoodwith regard to Aubrey and his friends was not tolerated here, whereevery moment she was made to feel acutely that she was a woman, forcedto submit to everything to which her womanhood exposed her, forced toendure everything that he might put upon her--a chattel, a slave to dohis bidding, to bear his pleasure and his displeasure, shaken to thevery foundation of her being with the upheaval of her convictions andthe ruthless violence done to her cold, sexless temperament. Thehumiliation of it seared her proud heart. He was pitiless in hisarrogance, pitiless in his Oriental disregard of the woman subjugated. He was an Arab, to whom the feelings of a woman were non-existent. Hehad taken her to please himself and he kept her to please himself, toamuse him in his moments of relaxation. 

To Diana before she had come to Africa the life of an Arab Sheik in hisnative desert had been a very visionary affair. The term sheik itselfwas elastic. She had been shown Sheiks in Biskra who drove hardbargains to hire out mangy camels and sore-covered donkeys for tripsinto the interior. Her own faithless caravan-leader had called himself"Sheik. " But she had heard also of other and different Sheiks who livedfar away across the shimmering sand, powerful chiefs with largefollowings, who seemed more like the Arabs of her imaginings, and ofwhose lives she had the haziest idea. When not engaged in killing theirneighbours she visualized them drowsing away whole days under theinfluence of narcotics, lethargic with sensual indulgence. The picturesshe had seen had been mostly of fat old men sitting cross-legged in theentrance of their tents, waited on by hordes of retainers, and lookinglanguidly, with an air of utter boredom, at some miserable slave beingbeaten to death. 

She had not been prepared for the ceaseless activity of the man whoseprisoner she was. His life was hard, strenuous and occupied. His dayswere full, partly with the magnificent horses that he bred, and partlywith tribal affairs that took him from the camp for hours at a time. Upon one or two occasions he had been away for the whole night and hadcome back at daybreak with all the evidences of hard riding. Some daysshe rode with him, but when he had not the time or the inclination, theFrench valet went with her. A beautiful grey thoroughbred called SilverStar was kept for her use, and sometimes on his back she was able toforget for a little time. So the moments of relaxation were lessfrequent than they might have been, and it was only in the eveningswhen Gaston had come and gone for the last time and she was alone withthe Sheik that an icy hand seemed to close down over her heart. And, according to his mood, he noticed or ignored her. He demanded implicitobedience to his lightest whim with the unconscious tyranny of one whohad always been accustomed to command. He ruled his unruly followersdespotically, and it was obvious that while they loved him they fearedhim equally. She had even seen Yusef, his lieutenant, cringe from theheavy scowl that she had, herself, learned to dread. 

"You treat them like dogs, " she said to him once. "Are you not afraidthat one day they will rise against you and murder you?"

And he had only shrugged his shoulders and laughed, the same low laughof amusement that never failed to make her shiver. 

The only person whose devotion seemed untinged by any conflictingsentiment was the French valet, Gaston. 

It was the Sheik's complete indifference to everything beyond his ownwill, his Oriental egoism, that stung her most. He treated hersupplications and invectives with a like unconcern. The paroxysms ofwild rage that filled her periodically made no impression on him. Heaccorded them a shrug of ennui or watched her with cold curiosity, hislips parted in a little cruel smile, as if the dissection of herlacerated feelings amused him, until his patience was exhausted, andthen, with one of the lithe, quick movements that she could neverevade, his hands would grip and hold her and he would look at her. Onlythat, but in the grasp of his lean, brown fingers and under the stareof his dark, fierce eyes her own would drop, and the frantic words diefrom her lips. She was physically afraid of him, and she hated him andloathed herself for the fear he inspired. And her fear was legitimate. His strength was abnormal, and behind it was the lawlessness andabsolutism that allowed free rein to his savage impulses. He held lifeand death in his hand. 

A few days after he had taken her she had seen him chastise a servant. She did not know what the man's fault had been, but the punishmentseemed out of all proportion to anything that could be imagined, andshe had watched fascinated with horror, until he had tossed away themurderous whip, and without a second glance at the limp, blood-stainedheap that huddled on the ground with suggestive stillness had strolledback unconcerned to the tent. The sight had sickened her and hauntedher perpetually. His callousness horrified her even more than hiscruelty. She hated him with all the strength of her proud, passionatenature. His personal beauty even was an additional cause of offence. She hated him the more for his handsome face and graceful, muscularbody. His only redeeming virtue in her eyes was his total lack ofvanity, which she grudgingly admitted. He was as unconscious of himselfas was the wild animal with which she compared him. 

"He is like a tiger, " she murmured deep into the cushions, with ashiver, "a graceful, cruel, merciless beast. " She remembered a tigershe had shot the previous winter in India. After hours of weary, cramped waiting in the machan the beautiful creature had slippednoiselessly through the undergrowth and emerged into the clearing. Hehad advanced midway towards the tree where she was perched and hadstopped to listen, and the long, free stride, the haughty poise of thethrown-back head, the cruel curl of the lips and the glint in theferocious eyes flashing in the moonlight, were identical with theexpression and carriage of the man who was her master. Then it had beenadmiration without fear, and she had hesitated at wantonly destroyingso perfect a thing, until the quick pressure of her shikari's fingerson her arm brought her back to facts and reminded her that the "perfectthing" was reported to have eaten a woman the previous week. And now itwas fear with a reluctant admiration that she despised herself foraccording. 

A hand on her shoulder made her start up with a cry. Usually her nerveswere in better control, but the thick rugs deadened every sound, andshe had not expected him so soon. He had been out since dawn and hadcome in much past his usual time, and had been having a belated siestain the adjoining room. 

Angry with herself she bit her lip and pushed the tumbled hair off herforehead. He dropped on to the divan beside her and lit the inevitablecigarette; he smoked continuously every moment he was not in thesaddle. She glanced at him covertly. He was lying with his head thrownback against the cushions, idly blowing smoke-rings and watching themdrift towards the open door-way. And as she looked he yawned and turnedto her. 

"Zilah is careless. Insist that she puts away your boots, and does notleave your clothes lying on the floor. There was a scorpion in thebathroom to-day, " he said lazily, stretching out his long legs. 

She flushed hotly, as she always did when he made any casual referenceto the intimacy of their life. It was his casualness that frightenedher, the carelessly implied continuance of a state that scorched herwith shame. His attitude invariably suggested a duration of theirrelations that left her numb with a kind of helpless despair. He was sosure of himself, so sure of his possession of her. 

She felt the warm blood pouring over her face now, up to the roots ofher bright hair and dyeing her slender neck, and she put her hands upto her head, her fingers thrust through her loose curls, to shield herface from his eyes. 

She gave a sigh of relief when Gaston came in bringing a little traywith two filigree-cased cups of coffee. 

"I have brought coffee; Madame's tea is finished, " he murmured in tonesof deepest distress, and with a gesture that conveyed a nationalcalamity. 

There had been just enough tea taken on the tour to last a month. Itwas another pin-prick, another reminder. She set her teeth, moving herhead angrily, and found herself looking into a pair of mocking eyes, and, as always, her own dropped. 

Gaston said a few words in Arabic to his master, and the Sheikswallowed the boiling coffee and went out hastily. The valet movedabout the tent with his usual deft noiselessness, gathering upcigarette ends and spent matches, and tidying the room with anassiduous orderliness that was peculiarly his own. Diana watched himalmost peevishly. Was it the influence of the desert that made allthese men cat-like in their movements, or was the servant consciouslyor unconsciously copying his master? With a sudden fit of childishirritability she longed to smash something, and, with an impetuoushand, sent the little inlaid table with the tray and coffee-cupsflying. She was ashamed of the impulse even before the crash came, andlooked at Gaston clearing up the debris with anxious eyes. What was thematter with her? The even temper on which she prided herself and thenerves that had been her boast had vanished, gone by the board in thelast month. If her nerve failed her utterly what would become of her?What would she do?

Gaston had gone, and she looked around the tent with a huntedexpression. There seemed no escape possible from the misery that wasalmost more than she could bear. 

There was a way out that had been in her mind often, and she hadsearched frequently in the hope that she might find the means. But theSheik had also thought and had taken precautions. One day it seemed asif her desperate wish might be fulfilled, and she had had only amoment's hesitation as she stretched out her hand to take the revolverthat had been left lying on a table, but as her fingers closed on thebutt a muscular hand closed over hers. He had come in with his usualsilent step and was close to her without her knowing. He had taken theweapon from her quietly, holding her eyes with his own, and had jerkedit open, showing the empty magazine. "Do you think that I am quite afool?" he had asked without a trace of expression in his voice. 

And since then she had been under a ceaseless, unobtrusive surveillancethat had left her no chance of carrying out her terrible resolve. Sheburied her face in her hands. "Oh, my God! Is it never going to end? AmI never going to get away from him?"

She sprang to her feet and walked restlessly round the tent, her handsclasped behind her back, her head thrown up, and her lips pressed closetogether. She panted as if she had been running, and her eyes had afar-away, unseeing look. Gradually she got command of herself again andthe nervous excitement died down, leaving her weary and very desolate. The solitude seemed suddenly horrible. Anything would be better thanthe silent emptiness of the great tent. A noise outside attracted her, and she wandered to the doorway and out under the awning. Near her theSheik with Gaston and Yusef stood watching a mad, ramping colt that wasbeing held with difficulty by two or three men, who clung to himtenaciously in spite of his efforts to break away, and beyond was asemi-circle of Arabs, some mounted and some on foot, leaving a wide, open space between them and the tent. They were intensely excited, talking and gesticulating, the mounted men riding round the outer ringthat they formed. Diana leaned against one of the lances that supportedthe awning and watched the scene with growing interest. This camp wasmany miles to the south of the one to which she had first been brought, and which had been broken up a few days after her capture. The settingwas wonderful, the far-off hills dusky in the afternoon light, theclustering palms behind the tents, the crowd of barbaric figures inpicturesque, white robes, the horsemen moving continuously up and down, and in the midst of everything the beautiful, wild creature, frenziedby the noise, kicking and biting at the men holding him. After a momentthe Sheik held up his hand, and a man detached himself from thechattering crowd and came to him salaaming. The Sheik said a few words, and with another salaam and a gleam of white teeth, the man turned andapproached the struggling group in the centre of the ring. 

Diana straightened up with interest. The frantic colt was going to bebroken. It was already saddled. Several additional men ran forward, andbetween them the horse was forcibly held for a moment--only for amoment, but it was long enough for the man who leaped like a flash onto his back. The others fell away, racing from the reach of theterrible lashing heels. Amazed for the moment at the suddenunaccustomed weight, the colt paused, and then reared straight up, tillit seemed to Diana that he must fall backward and crush the man who wasclinging to him. But he came down at last, and for a few moments it wasalmost impossible to follow his spasmodic movements as he strove to ridhimself of his rider. The end came quickly. With a twisting heave ofhis whole body he shot the Arab over his head, who landed with a dullthud and lay still, while the men who had been holding the colt dashedin and secured him before he was aware of his liberty. Diana lookedtowards the fallen man; a little crowd were gathered around him, andher heart beat faster as she thought that he was dead. Dead so quickly, and only a moment before he had been so full of life and strength. Death meant nothing to these savages, she thought bitterly, as shewatched the limp body being carried away by three or four men, whoargued violently over their burden. She glanced at the Sheik. He seemedperfectly unconcerned and did not even look in the direction of the manwho had fallen. On the contrary, he laughed, and, turning to Yusef, puthis hand en his shoulder and nodded towards the colt. Diana gave agasp. He spared no one. He was going to make the young man take hischance as the rough-rider had taken his. She knew that the lieutenantrode well, as did all Ahmed Ben Hassan's followers, and that hislanguid manner was only a pose, but he looked so young and boyish, andthe risk seemed enormous. She had seen colts broken before many times, but never a colt so madly savage as this one. But to Yusef the chancewas evidently welcome. With an answering laugh, he swaggered out intothe arena, where the men greeted him with shouts. There was the sameprocedure as before, and Yusef bounded up lightly into the saddle. Thistime, instead of rearing, the frightened beast dashed forward in a wildeffort to escape, but the mounted men, closing up, headed him into themiddle of the ring again, and he went back to his first tactics with arapidity that was too much for the handsome lad on his back, and in afew moments he was thrown heavily. With a shrill scream the colt turnedon him open-mouthed, and Yusef flung up one arm to save his face. Butthe men reached him in time, dragging the colt from him by main force. He rose to his feet unsteadily and limped to the tents behind. Dianacould not see him easily for the throng around him. 

Again she looked at the Sheik and ground her teeth. He was stooping tolight a cigarette from a match that Gaston was holding, and then theywalked together nearer to the colt. The animal was now thoroughlymaddened, and it was increasingly difficult to hold him. They went upclose to the struggling, yelling grooms, and the next minute Diana sawGaston sitting firmly in the empty saddle. The little man rodemagnificently, and put up a longer fight than the others had done, butat last his turn came, and he went flying over the colt's head. He camedown lightly on his hands and knees, and scrambled to his feet in aninstant amidst a storm of shouts and laughter. Laughing himself he cameback to the Sheik with a shrug of the shoulders and outspread, eloquenthands. They spoke together for a moment, too low for Diana to hear, andthen Ahmed Ben Hassan went again into the middle of the ring. Diana'sbreath came more quickly. She guessed his intention before he reachedthe colt, and she moved forward from under the awning and joinedGaston, who was wrapping his handkerchief round a torn hand. 

"Monseigneur will try?" she asked a little breathlessly. 

Gaston looked at her quickly. "Try, Madame?" he repeated in a queervoice. "Yes, he will try. "

Again the empty saddle was filled, and a curious hush came over thewatching crowd. Diana looked on with bright, hard eyes, her heartbeating heavily. She longed passionately that the colt might kill him, and, at the same time, illogically, she wanted to see him master theinfuriated animal. The sporting instinct in her acknowledged andresponded to the fight that was going on before her eyes. She hated himand she hoped that he might die, but she was forced to admire thewonderful horsemanship that she was watching. The Sheik sat like arock, and every effort made to unseat him was unsuccessful. The coltplunged wildly, making furious blind dashes backward and forward, stopping dead in the hope of dislodging his rider, twirling roundsuddenly until it seemed impossible that he could keep his feet. Thenhe started rearing, straight up, his forelegs beating the air, higherand higher, and then down, to commence again without a moment'sbreathing-space. 

Diana heard Gaston's breath whistle through his teeth. "Look, Madame!"he cried sharply, and Diana saw the Sheik give a quick glance behindhim, and, as the colt shot up again, almost perpendicular, with a jerkhe pulled him deliberately over backwards, leaping clear with atremendous effort as the horse crashed to the ground. He was in thesaddle again almost before the dazed creature had struggled to itsfeet. And then began a scene that Diana never forgot. It was the finalstruggle that was to end in defeat for either man or horse, and theSheik had decided that it was not to be for the man. It was apunishment of which the untamed animal was never to lose remembrance. The savagery and determination of the man against the mad determinationof the horse. It was a hideous exhibition of brute strength andmerciless cruelty. Diana was almost sick with horror from thebeginning; she longed to turn away, but her eyes clung fascinated tothe battle that was going on. The hush that had fallen on the crowd hadgiven way to roars of excitement, and the men pressed forward eagerly, to give back precipitately when the still-fighting animal's heelsflashed too near. 

Diana was shaking all over and her hands were clenching and unclenchingas she stared at the man, who seemed a part of the horse he was sittingso closely. Would it never end? She did not care now which killed theother so that it would only stop. The man's endurance seemed merebravado. She clutched Gaston's arms with a hand that was wringing wet. "It is horrible, " she gasped with an accent of loathing. 

"It is necessary, " he replied quietly. 

"Nothing can justify that, " she cried passionately. 

"Your pardon, Madame. He must learn. He killed a man this morning, threw him, and what you call in English 'savaged' him. "

Diana hid her face in her hands. "I can't bear it, " she said pitifully. 

A few minutes later Gaston clicked his tongue against his teeth. "See, Madame. It is over, " he said gently. 

She looked up fearfully. The Sheik was standing on the ground besidethe colt, who was swaying slowly from side to side with heaving sidesand head held low to the earth, dripping blood and foam. And as shelooked he tottered and collapsed exhausted. There was a rush from allsides, and Gaston went towards his master, who towered above the crowdaround him. 

Diana turned away with an exclamation of disgust. It was enough to haveseen a display of such brutality; it was too much to stand by while hisfellow-savages acclaimed him for his cruelty. 

She went slowly back into the tent, shaken with what she had seen, andstood in undecided hesitation beside the divan. The helpless feelingthat she so often experienced swept over her with renewed force. Therewas nowhere that she could get away from him, no privacy, no respite. Day and night she must endure his presence with no hope of escape. Sheclosed her eyes in a sudden agony, and then stiffened at the sound ofhis voice outside. 

He came in laughing, a cigarette dangling from one blood-stained hand, while with the other he wiped the perspiration from his forehead, leaving a dull red smear. She shrank from him, looking at him withblazing eyes. "You are a brute, a beast, a devil! I hate you!" shechoked furiously. 

For a moment an ugly look crossed his face, and then he laughed again. "Hate me by all means, _ma belle_, but let your hatred bethorough. I detest mediocrity, " he said lightly, as he passed on intothe other room. 

She sank down on to the couch. She had never felt so desperate, sopowerless. She stared straight before her, shivering, as she went overthe scene she had just witnessed, her fingers picking nervously at thejade-green silk of her dress. She longed for some power that woulddeaden her feelings and blunt her capacity for suffering. She looked atGaston with hard eyes when he came in. He had approved of what theSheik had done, would have done it himself if he had been able. Theywere all alike. 

"The man who was hurt first, " she asked abruptly, with a touch of herold hauteur in her voice, "is he dead?"

"Oh no, Madame. He has concussion but he will be all right. They havehard heads, these Arabs. "

"And Yusef?"

Gaston grinned. "_Le petit_ Sheik has a broken collar-bone. It isnothing. A few days' holiday to be petted in his harem, _etvoila_!"

"His harem?" echoed Diana in surprise. "Is he married?"

"_Mais oui_, Madame. He has two wives. "

At Diana's exclamation he shrugged deprecatingly. "_Quevoulez-vous?_ It is the custom of the country, " he said tolerantly, with the air of conceding a melancholy fact with the best gracepossible. 

The customs of the country was dangerous ground, and Diana changed thesubject hastily. "Where did you learn to ride, Gaston?"

"In a racing-stable at Auteuil, Madame, when I was a boy. Then I wasfive years in the French cavalry. After that I came to Monseigneur. "

"And you have been with him--how long?"

"Fifteen years, Madame. "

"Fifteen years, " she repeated wonderingly. "Fifteen years here, in thedesert?"

"Here and elsewhere, Madame, " he answered rather more shortly thanusual, and with a murmur of excuse left the tent. 

Diana leaned back against the cushions with a little sigh. Gaston neednot have been afraid that she was trying to learn his master's secretsfrom him. She had not fallen as low as that. The mystery of the manwhose path had crossed hers so terribly seemed to augment instead oflessen as the time went on. What was the power in him that compelledthe devotion of his wild followers and the little French ex-cavalryman?She knit her forehead in perplexity and was still puzzling over it whenhe came back. Immaculate and well-groomed he was very different fromthe dishevelled, bloodstained savage of half-an-hour before. She shot anervous glance at him, remembering her outburst, but he was not angry. He looked grave, but his gravity seemed centred in himself as he passedhis lean fingers tenderly over his smooth chin. She had seen Aubrey dosimilarly hundreds of times. Occidental or Oriental, men seemed veryalike. She waited for him to speak and waited vainly. One of thetaciturn fits to which she had grown accustomed had come overhim--hours sometimes in which he simply ignored her altogether. Theevening meal was silent. He spoke once to Gaston, but he spoke inArabic, and the servant replied only with a nod of compliance. Andafter Gaston was gone he did not speak for a long time, but sat on thedivan, apparently absorbed in his thoughts. 

Restless, Diana moved about the tent, listlessly examining objects thatshe knew by heart, and flirting over the pages of the French magazinesshe had read a dozen times. Usually she was thankful for his silentmoods. To-night with a woman's perversity she wanted him to speak. Shewas unstrung, and the utter silence oppressed her. She glanced over hershoulder at him once or twice, but his back looked unapproachable. Yetwhen he called her, with a swift revulsion of feeling, she wished hehad kept silent. She went to him slowly. She was too unnerved to-nightto struggle against him. What would be the use? she thought wearily; itwould only end in defeat as it always did. He pulled her down on thedivan beside him, and before she realised what he was doing slipped along jade necklace over her head. For a moment she looked stupidly atthe wonderful thing, almost unique in the purity of its colour and themarvellous carving on the uniform square pieces of which it wascomposed, and then with a low cry she tore it off and flung it on theground. 

"How dare you?" she gasped. 

"You don't like it?" he asked in his low, unruffled voice, his eyebrowsraised in real or assumed surprise. "Yet it matches your dress, " andlightly his long fingers touched the folds of green silk swathed acrossthe youthful curve of her breast. He glanced at an open box filled withshimmering stones on a low stool beside him. 

"Pearls are too cold and diamonds too banal for you, " he said slowly. "You should wear nothing but jade. It is the colour of the evening skyagainst the sunset of your hair. "

He had never spoken like that to her before, or used that tone ofvoice. His methods had been more fierce than tender. She glanced upswiftly at his face, but it baffled her. There was no love in his eyesor even desire, nothing but an unusual gentleness. "Perhaps you wouldprefer the diamonds and the pearls, " he went on, pointing disdainfullyat the box. 

"No, no. I hate them! I hate them all! I will not wear your jewels. Youhave no right to think that I am that kind of woman, " she criedhysterically. 

"You do not like them? _Bon Dieu!_ None of the other women everrefused them. On the contrary, they could never get enough, " he saidwith a laugh. 

Diana looked up with a startled glance, a look of horror dawning in hereyes. "Other women?" she repeated blankly. 

"You didn't suppose you were the first, did you?" he asked with brutalcandour. "Don't look at me like that. They were not like you, they cameto me willingly enough--too willingly. Allah! How they bored me! Itired of them before they tired of me. "

She flung her arm across her eyes with a dry sob, straining away fromhim. She had never thought of that. In the purity of her mind it hadnever occurred to her. She was only one of many, one of a succession ofmistresses, taken and discarded at his whim. She writhed with the shamethat filled her. "Oh, you hurt me!" she whispered very low, and thenanger killed all other feeling. He had loosened his arm about her andshe wrenched herself free and sprang to her feet. "I hate you, do youunderstand? I hate you! I hate you!"

He lit a cigarette leisurely before answering and moved into a morecomfortable position on the divan. "So you have already told me thisafternoon, " he said at length coolly, "and with reiteration your remarkbecomes less convincing, _ma cherie_. "

Her anger ebbed away. She was too tired to be angry. She was humiliatedand hurt, and the man before her had it in his power to hurt her more, but she was at his mercy and to-night she could not fight. She pushedthe hair off her forehead with a heavy sigh and looked at the Sheik'slong length stretched out on the couch, the steely strength of hislimbs patent even in the indolent attitude in which he was lying, athis brown handsome face, inscrutable as it always was to her, and thefeeling of helplessness came back with renewed force and with it thesense of her own pitiful weakness against his force, compelling her tospeak. "Have you never felt pity for a thing that was weaker thanyourself? Have you never spared anything or any one in all your life?Have you nothing in your nature but cruelty? Are all Arabs hard likeyou?" she said shakily. "Has love never even made you merciful?"

He glanced up at her with a harsh laugh, and shook his head. "Love?_Connais pas!_ Yes, I do, " he added with swift mockery, "I love myhorses. "

"When you don't kill them, " she retorted. 

"I am corrected. When I don't kill them. "

There was something in his voice that made her reckless, that made herwant to hurt him. "If you give no love to the--the women whom you bringhere, do you give love to the women of your harem? You have a harem, Isuppose, somewhere?" she braved him with curling lip and scornfulvoice, but as she spoke she knew that she had only hurt herself and hervoice faltered. 

His hand reached out suddenly and he dragged her down into his armsagain with a laugh. "And if I have, are you jealous? What if the nightsI spent away from you were passed in my harem--what then?"

"Then may Allah put it into the heart of one of your wives to poisonyou so that you never come back, " she said fiercely. 

"Allah! So beautiful and so bloodthirsty, " he said in banteringreproof. Then he turned her face up to his, smiling into her angry eyeswith amusement. "I have no harem and, thanks be to Allah, no wives, _cherie. _ Does that please you?"

"Why should I care? It is nothing to me, " she replied sharply, with avivid blush. 

He held her closer, looking deeply into her eyes, holding them as hecould when he liked, in spite of her efforts to turn them away--amesmerism she could not resist. 

"Shall I make you care? Shall I make you love me? I can make women loveme when I choose. "

She went very white and her eyes flickered. She knew that he was onlyamusing himself, that he was utterly indifferent to her feelings, thathe did not care if she hated or loved him, but it was a new form oftorture that was more detestable than anything that had gone before it. It infuriated her that he could even suggest that she could come tocare for him, that she could ever look on him as anything but a brutalsavage who had committed a hideous outrage, that she could ever haveany feeling for him except hatred and loathing. That he should classher with the other women he spoke of revolted her, she felt degraded, soiled as she had never done before, and she had thought that she hadfelt the utmost humiliation of her position. 

The colour rushed back into her face. "I would rather you killed me, "she cried passionately. 

"So would I, " he said drily, "for if you loved me you would bore me andI should have to let you go. While as it is"--he laughed softly--"as itis I do not regret the chance that took me into Biskra that day. "

He let her go and got up with a yawn, watching her approvingly as shecrossed the tent. The easy swing of her boyish figure and the defiantcarriage of her head reminded him of one of his own thoroughbredhorses. She was as beautiful and as wild as they were. And as he brokethem so would he break her. She was nearly tamed now, but not quite, and by Allah! it should be quite! As he turned his foot struck againstthe jade necklace lying on the rug where she had thrown it. He pickedit up and called her back. She came reluctantly, slowly, with mutinouseyes. 

He held out the necklace silently, and silently she stared not at itbut at him. Her heart began to beat faster, and the colour slowly lefther face. "Take it. I wish it, " he said quietly. 

"No. " It was little more than a gasp. 

"You will wear it to please me, " he went on in the same soft voice, andthe old hateful mockery crept into his eyes, "to please my artisticsoul. I have an artistic soul even though I am only an Arab. "

"I will not!"

The mockery was wiped out of his eyes in a flash, giving place to theusual ferocity, and his forehead knit in the dreaded heavy scowl. "Diane, obey me!"

She clenched her teeth on her lower lip until a rim of blood stainedtheir whiteness. If he would only shout or bluster like the averageangry man she felt that she could brave him longer, but the cold quietrage that characterised him always was infinitely more sinister, andparalysed her with its silent force. She had never heard him raise hisvoice in anger or quicken his usual slow, soft tone, but there was aninflection that came into his voice and a look that came into his eyesthat was more terrible than any outburst. She had seen his men shrinkwhen, standing near him, she had barely been able to hear what he hadsaid. She had seen a look from him silence a clamorous quarrel that hadbroken out among his followers too close to his own tent for hispleasure. And that inflection was in his voice and that look was in hiseyes now. It was no longer use to resist. The fear of him was an agony. She would have to obey, as in the end he always forced her to obey. Shewrenched her eyes away from his compelling stare, her bosom heavingunder the soft silk, her chin quivering, and reached out blindly andtook it from him. But the sudden chill of it against her bare breastseemed to revive the courage that was not yet dead in her. She flung upher head, the transient colour flaming into her cheeks, and her lipssprang open, but he drew her to him swiftly, and laid his hand over hermouth. "I know, I know, " he said coldly. "I am a brute and a beast anda devil. You need not tell me again. It commences to grow tedious. " Hishand slipped to her shoulder, his fingers gripping the delicate, rounded arm. "How much longer are you going to fight? Would it not bewiser after what you have seen to-day to recognise that I am master?"

"You mean that you will treat me as you treated the colt thisafternoon?" she whispered, her eyes drawn back irresistibly to his inspite of all her efforts. 

"I mean that you must realise that my will is law. "

"And if I do not?" He guessed rather than heard the words. 

"Then I will teach you, and I think that you will learn--soon. "

She quivered in his hands. It was a threat, but how much of it he meantto be taken literally she did not know. Again every ghastly detail ofthe afternoon passed with lightning speed through her mind. When hepunished he punished mercilessly. To what lengths would he go? The Arabstandards were not those of the men amongst whom she had lived. Theposition of a woman in the desert was a very precarious one. There weretimes when she forgot altogether that he was an Arab until some chance, as now, drove the hard fact home indisputably. He was an Arab, and as awoman she need expect no mercy at his hands. His hands! She looked downfor a second sideways at the fingers gripping her shoulder and she sawthem again stained with blood, saw them clenched round the drippingthong. She knew already by bitter experience the iron grip of his leanfingers and the compelling strength of his arms. Her quick imaginationleaped ahead. What she had already suffered would be nothing comparedwith what would be. The remembrance of the stained, huddled figure ofthe servant he had chastised rose before her. And as she battled withherself, still torn in her passionate desire to make her strong willand courageous spirit triumph over her coward woman's body that shrankinstinctively from physical torture, his arm tightened around her andshe felt the hard muscles pressing against her shoulders and soft, bareneck, a suggestion of the force lying dormant beside her. She looked upat him slowly. 

His expression was unchanged, his forehead was still drawn together inthe heavy frown and there was no softening in his eyes. The cruel linesabout his mouth were accentuated and the tiger-look in his face wasmore marked than ever. He was not threatening idly; he meant what hesaid. 

"You had better kill me, " she said drearily. 

"That would be to admit my own defeat, " he replied coolly. "I do notkill a horse until I have proved beyond all possible doubt that Icannot tame it. With you I have no such proof. I can tame you and Iwill. But it is for you to choose and to choose to-night if you willobey me willingly or if I must make you. I have been very patient--forme, " he added, with an odd smile flitting across his face, "but mypatience is exhausted. Choose quickly. " Insensibly he drew her closerto him till his arm felt like an inflexible steel band about her, andshe thought with a shudder of the coils of a great serpent closinground its victim. She made a final effort to conquer herself, butbetween her and the broad chest so close to her she seemed to see ahorse's head held low in agony, blood and foam dripping from hislacerated mouth, and a horse's flanks heaving piteously, torn with thecruel punishment he had undergone. A sudden nausea came over her, everything seemed to swim before her eyes, and she swayed against theman who was holding her. Her bodily fear overruled her mind. She couldnot bear any more. 

"I will obey you, " she whispered heavily. 

He took her chin in his fingers and jerked her head up sharply, staringat her intently until she felt he was looking into her very soul. Theheavy scowl smoothed away but the fierceness lingered in his eyes. "Good!" he said at length briefly. "You are wise, " he addedsignificantly. He tilted her head further back, bending his own downuntil his lips were nearly touching hers. She shivered involuntarily, an anguished appeal leaping into her eyes. He smiled ironically. "Doyou hate them so much, my kisses?"

She swallowed convulsively. 

"You are at least candid if you are not complimentary;" and with thathe released her and turned away. 

She reached the curtain that divided the two rooms, her heart beatingwildly, giddy with the strain that she had gone through. She paused amoment and looked back at him, amazed at her own temerity. He hadunbuttoned the flap of the tent and was standing in the entrancelooking out into the night. The scent of the peculiar tobacco he useddrifted to her with the draught from the open door. Her eyes grewpuzzled. Would she ever understand him? To-night he had given her achoice instead of simply enforcing his will, he had made her choose tosave herself, he had proved his determination and his mastery over her. And with his last words the unexpected gentleness had come into hisvoice again and the cruel lines about his mouth had relaxed in a smileof amusement. It was the swift transition from ferocity to gentlenessthat she could never fathom. His complex nature was beyond herunderstanding. She would not try to understand him; she could neverknow the depths of his baffling personality. She only knew that forsome reason of his own he had spared her, and she feared him more thanever. 

CHAPTER V

Under the awning of the tent Diana was waiting for Gaston and thehorses, pulling on her thick riding-gloves nervously. She was wroughtup to the utmost pitch of excitement. Ahmed Ben Hassan had been awaysince the previous day and it was uncertain if he would return thatnight or the next. He had been vague as to how long he would beabsent. There had been a constant coming and going amongst hisfollowers--messengers arriving on exhausted horses at all hours of theday and night, and the Sheik himself had seemed unusually preoccupied. He had not condescended to give any reason for the special activity ofhis people and she had not asked him. 

In the four weeks that had elapsed since she had promised him herobedience she had been very silent. The fear and hatred of him grewdaily. She had learned to stifle the wild fits of rage and the angrywords that leaped to her lips. She had learned to obey--a reluctantobedience given with compressed lips and defiant eyes, but given, andwith a silence that surprised even herself. Day after day she hadfollowed the usual routine, dumb unless he spoke to her; and with hisown attention occupied with matters beyond the four walls of his tenthe had not noticed or did not trouble to heed her silence. Lately hehad left her very much alone; she had ridden with him almost dailyuntil the last week, when he had announced curtly that in the meantimethe length of her rides must be curtailed and that Gaston wouldaccompany her. He had not offered any explanation, and she had notsought one. She had chosen to see in it merely another act of tyrannyimposed on her by the man whose arbitrary exercise of power over herand whose tacit possession of her galled her continually. And under thesullen submission a wild fury of revolt was raging. She searchedfeverishly for means of flight, and now the Sheik's absence seemed tohave given her the chance she had been waiting for. In the solitude ofthe previous night she had tossed impatiently from side to side of thebig couch, vainly trying to find some means of taking advantage of hercomparative freedom to effect her escape. Surely she could find someway of avoiding Gaston's vigilance. Excitement had kept her awake halfthe night, and in the morning she had had hard work to keep heragitation hidden and to appear as usual. She had even been afraid toorder the horses any earlier in her nervous terror lest the valetshould suspect there was any reason behind the simple request. Afterher _petit dejeuner_ she had paced the tent, unable to sit still, dreading lest any moment might bring the return of the Sheik andfrustrate her hopes. She looked back into the room with a shudder asher eyes travelled over the luxurious appointments and differentobjects that had become so curiously familiar in the last two months. The unexpected equipments and the man's own baffling personality wouldremain in her recollection always as an enigma that she would never beable to solve. So much had been so inexplicable in himself and in hismode of life. She drew a long breath and went out hastily into thesunshine. 

The horses were waiting, and Gaston was standing ready to hold herstirrup. She fondled the beautiful grey horse's soft nose and pattedhis satiny neck with a hand that trembled a little. She loved the horseand to-day he should be the means of saving her. He responded to hercaresses, gentling her with slobbering mouth and whinnying softly. Withone last look at the big double tent and the rest of the camp behind itshe mounted and rode away without another backward glance. She had toexercise a rigid control over herself. She longed to put Silver Starinto a hand gallop at once and shake off Gaston, but she was still toonear the camp. She must be patient and put a certain number of milesbetween herself and the possibility of pursuit before she attemptedanything. Too early an endeavour would only bring the whole horde inwild chase at her heels. The thought of the promise she had given tothe man from whom she was flying came back to her. She had promisedobedience, but she had not promised that she would not try to escape, and, if she had, no promise wrung from her by fear was valid in heropinion. 

She rode steadily forward at a slow, swinging canter, instinctivelysaving her horse, plan after plan passing through her brain to berejected as impracticable. Silver Star fretted continually at themoderate pace, tossing his head and catching at his bit. She took noheed of the time beyond the fact that it was passing quickly, and thatif anything was to be done it must be done as soon as possible. ButGaston, riding a few paces behind her, was very much alive to the hourand had looked several times at his watch. He ranged alongside of hernow with a murmured apology. "Pardon, Madame. It grows late, " andsubmitted his wrist watch for her inspection. 

Diana glanced mechanically at her own wrist and then remembered thatshe had broken her watch the day before. She pulled up, and tilting herhelmet back mopped her hot forehead, and, as she did so, a sharp breezesprang up, the curious wind that comes and goes so rapidly in thedesert. An idea flashed into her mind. It was a poor chance, but itmight succeed. She shot a glance at Gaston. He was looking in theopposite direction, and, raising her hand, she fluttered herhandkerchief a moment in the breeze and then let it go. The windcarried it some distance away. She gave a little cry and caught at thebridle of the valet's horse. 

"Oh, Gaston, my handkerchief!" and pointed to where the morsel ofcambric lay white against a rock. With a comical exclamation of dismayhe slipped to the ground and started to run across the sand. 

She waited until he had got well on his way, sitting tense with shiningeyes and thumping heart, then, snatching off her helmet, she brought itdown with a resounding smack on the hindquarters of the servant'shorse, stampeding it in the direction of the camp, and, wheeling SilverStar, headed for the north, deaf to Gaston's cries. 

Wild with excitement and free to go his own pace at last her mountgalloped swiftly and the wind whistled past Diana's ears. To thepossible fate of the little Frenchman left on foot so far from theencampment she gave no heed. For the moment she did not even think ofhim, she had no thought for anybody but herself. Her ruse by its verysimplicity had succeeded. She was free and she did not care aboutanything else. She had no plans or ideas what she should do or whereshe should go beyond the fact that she would keep riding northward. Shehad vague hopes that she might fall in with friendly Arabs who, for apromised reward, would guide her to civilisation. Most of them couldspeak a little French, and for the rest her small stock of Arabic mustdo. She knew that she was mad to attempt to ride across the desertalone, but she did not mind. She was free. She was too excited to thinkcoherently. She laughed and shouted like a mad thing and her madnesscommunicated itself to the grey, who was going at racing speed. Dianaknew that he was out of control, that she could not stop him if shetried, but she did not want to try, the faster the better. In time hewould tire himself, but until then let him go as he pleased. She wasfast putting miles between herself and the camp that had been a prison, between herself and the brute who had dared to do what he had done. Atthe thought of the Sheik a sick feeling of fear ran through her. Ifanything should happen? If he should catch her again? She shuddered, and a cry burst from her lips, but she gripped herself at once. She wasidiotic, contemptible; it was impossible. It would be hours, perhapseven the next day, before the alarm was given; he would not know inwhat direction she had gone. She would have miles of start on one ofthe fleetest of his horses. She tried to put him out of her mind. Shehad escaped from him and his cruelty, it was a nightmare that was over. The effects would remain with her always, nothing would ever be thesame again, but the daily dread, the daily contamination would be gone, the helpless tortured feeling, the shame of submission that had filledher with an acute self-loathing that was as intense as her passionatehatred of the man who had forced her to endure his will. The memory ofit would live with her for ever. He had made her a vile thing. Hercheeks scorched with the thought and she shivered at the remembrance ofall that she had gone through. She had been down into the depths andshe would carry the scars all her life. The girl who had started out sotriumphantly from Biskra had become a woman through bitter knowledgeand humiliating experience. 

The pace was less killing now. Silver Star had settled down into thesteady tireless gallop for which Ahmed Ben Hassan's horses were famous. The little breeze had died away as quickly as it had sprung up, and itwas very hot. Diana looked about her with glowing eyes. Everythingseemed different. From the first she had loved the desert, but back ofeverything and mingled with everything had been the feeling of fear, the continual restraint, the perpetual subservience to the whims of hercaptor which had dominated everything. But now the whole aspect waschanged. She loved the endless, undulating expanse stretching outbefore her, and as the grey topped each rise her interest grew keener. What might not be behind the next one? For an hour or more the groundrose and fell in monotonous succession, and then the desert grew levelagain and quite suddenly she could see for miles. About two miles awaya few palm trees showed clustering together, and Diana turned in theirdirection. They probably meant a well, and it was time she rested herhorse and herself. It was the tiniest little oasis, and she drew reinand dismounted with fears for the well she had hoped to find. But therewas one, very much silted up, and she set to work to clear it as wellas she could to procure enough for herself and Silver Star, who wasfrantically trying to get to the water. It was exhausting work, but shemanaged to satisfy the grey, and, having unloosed his girths, she flungherself down on the ground in a small patch of shade. She lit acigarette and lay flat on her back with her helmet over her eyes. 

For the first time since she had shaken off Gaston she began to thinkseriously. What she had done was madness. She had no food for herselfor her horse, no water, and Heaven alone knew where the next well mightbe. She was alone in an uncivilised country among a savage people withno protection of any kind. She might fall in with friendly Arabs or shemight not. She might come across an encampment, or she might wander fordays and see no one, in which case death from hunger and thirst staredher in the face. What would she do when night came? With a sharp cryshe leaped to her feet. What was she to do? She looked all around thelittle oasis with startled eyes, at the few palm trees and clumps ofcamel thorn, the broken well and the grey horse still snuffing aboutits mouth. She felt frightened for the first time; she was alone andabout her was unending space, and she felt an atom, insignificant, theleast of all things. She looked up into the clear sky and the bluevastness appalled her. 

Then the sudden panic to which she had given way subsided and hercourage rose with a bound. It was only midday, anything might happenbetween then and nightfall. Of one thing only she was sure, she did notrepent of what she had done. Behind her was Ahmed Ben Hassan and beforeher was possibly death, and death was preferable. She was quite calmagain and lay down in the patch of shade once more with a resolutedetermination to mind. Time to think of them when they came. For thenext hour or two she must rest and escape the intense heat. She rolledover on her face with her head in her arms and tried to sleep, but shewas too excited, and soon gave up the attempt. And in any case, sheargued with herself, she might sleep too long and lose precious time. She stretched luxuriously on the soft ground, thankful for the shadefrom the burning sun. The grey, tired of nosing round the well andblowing disdainfully at the thorn bushes, wandered over to her side andnuzzled her gently. She caught at his velvety nose and drew it downbeside her face. He was a very affectionate beast and gentler than mostof the other horses, and he pressed close up to her, whinnying softlyand looking at her with large expressive eyes. "I haven't anything togive you, poor old boy, " she said regretfully, kissing his muzzle andthen pushing him away from her. She looked up again into the sky, adark speck sailed overhead, the slow heavy flight of a vulture. In afew hours he might be picking her bones! Merciful Heavens! Why did suchthoughts come into her head? Had she nothing left of the courage thathad once been second nature? If she let her nerves get the upper handshe might as well make no further effort, but lie down and die at once. With shaking fingers she took another cigarette; smoking would sootheher. Yet she hesitated before she lit it; there were only a few leftand her need might still be greater. But with a reckless laugh shesnapped the thin case to, and carefully scraped the evil-smellingsulphur match torn from a flat wood strip. She settled herselfcomfortably again full length. All around her were the innumerable tinynoises of the desert, the hum of countless insect life, the rustling ofthe sand and the occasional dry crackle of the camel thorns made by theslipping of a twig or the displacing of a branch, sounds that wouldhave been incomprehensible some weeks before. For a few minutes a sandspider attracted her attention and she watched his hurried painstakingoperations with wondering interest. Gradually a drowsy feeling stoleover her and she realised suddenly that the air was impregnated withthe scent of the tobacco that was always associated with the Sheik. Itwas one of his cigarettes that she was smoking. She had always beenpowerfully affected by the influence of smell, which inducedrecollection with her to an extraordinary degree, and now the uncommonpenetrating odour of the Arab's cigarettes brought back all that shehad been trying to put out of her mind. With a groan she flung it awayand buried her face in her arms. The past rose up, and rushed, uncontrolled, through her brain. Incidents crowded into herrecollection, memories of headlong gallops across the desert ridingbeside the man who, while she hated him, compelled her admiration, memories of him schooling the horses that he loved, sitting them like acentaur, memories of him amongst his men, memories more intimatelyconnected with herself, of his varying moods, his swift changes fromsavage cruelty to amazing gentleness, from brutal intolerance to suddenconsideration. There had even been times when he had interested herdespite herself, and she had forgotten the relationship in which theystood towards each other in listening to his deep, slow voice, till aword or a gesture brought back the fact vividly. Memories of momentswhen she had struggled against his caresses, and he had mocked herhelplessness with his great strength, when she had lain in his armspanting and exhausted, cold with fear and shrinking from his fiercekisses. She had feared him as she had never believed it possible tofear. His face rose before her clearly with all the expressions she hadlearned to know and dread. She tried to banish it, striving with allher might to put him from her mind, twisting this way and that, writhing on the soft sand as she struggled with the obsession that heldher. She saw him all the time plainly, as though he were there beforeher. Would he pursue her always, phantom-like? Would the recollectionof the handsome brown face haunt her for ever with its fierce eyes andcruel mouth? She buried her head deeper in her arms, but the visionpersisted until with a scream she started up with heaving chest andwild eyes, standing rigid, staring towards the south with a desperatefixedness that made her eyeballs ache. The sense of his presence hadbeen terribly real. She dropped on to the ground again with anhysterical laugh, and pushed the thick hair off her forehead wearily. Silver Star laying his muzzle suddenly on her shoulder made her startagain violently with heavy, beating heart. A frightened look wentacross her face. "I'm nervous, " she muttered, looking round with alittle shiver. "I shall go mad if I stay here much longer. " The littleoasis that she had hailed so joyfully had become utterly repugnant andshe was impatient to get away from it. She climbed eagerly into thesaddle, and, with the rapid motion, she regained her calm and herspirits rose quickly. 

She shook off the feeling of apprehension that had taken hold of herand her nervous fears died away. A reckless feeling, like theexcitement of the morning, came over her, and she urged the grey onwith coaxing words, and responding to her voice, and hardly feeling herlight weight, he raced on untiringly. All around was silence and asolitude that was stupendous. The vast emptiness was awe-inspiring. Theafternoon was wearing away; already it was growing cooler. Diana hadseen no sign of human life since she had left Gaston hours before and alittle feeling of anxiety stirred faintly deep down in her heart. Traces of caravans she passed several times, and from the whiteningbones of dead camels she turned her head in aversion--they were toointimately suggestive. She had seen a few jackals, and once a hyenalumbered away clumsily among some rocks as she passed. She had got awayfrom the level desert, and was threading her way in and out of some lowhills, which she felt were taking her out of her right course. She wassteering by the setting sun, which had turned the sky into a glory ofgolden crimson, but the intricate turnings amongst the rocky hills werebewildering. The low, narrow defile seemed hemming her in, menacing heron all sides, and she was beginning to despair of finding her way outof the labyrinth, when, on rounding a particularly sharp turn, therocks fell away suddenly and she rode out into open country. Shebreathed a sigh of relief and called out cheerily to the grey, but, asshe looked ahead, her voice died away, and she reined him in sharplywith a quickening heart-beat. Across the desert about a mile away shesaw a party of Arabs coming towards her. There were about fifty ofthem, the leader riding a big, black horse some little distance infront of his followers. In the clear atmosphere they seemed nearer thanthey were. It was not what she wished. She had hoped for an encampment, where there would be women or a caravan of traders whose constantcommunication with the towns would make them realise the importance ofguiding her to civilisation unharmed. This band of fighting men, forshe could see their rifles clearly, and their close and orderlyformation was anything but peaceful, filled her with the greatestmisgivings. Only the worst might be expected from the wild, lawlesstribesmen towards a woman alone amongst them. She had fled from onehideousness to another which would be ten times more horrible. Her faceblanched and she set her teeth in desperation. The human beings she hadprayed for were now a deadly menace, and she prayed as fervently thatthey might pass on and not notice her. Perhaps it was not too late, perhaps they had not yet seen her and she might still slip away andhide in the twisting turnings of the defile. She backed Silver Starfurther into the shadow of the rock, but as she did so she saw that shehad been seen. The leader turned in his saddle and raised his hand highabove his head, and with a wild shout and a great cloud of dust andsand his men checked their horses, dragging them back on to theirhaunches, while he galloped towards her alone. And at the same momentan icy hand clutched at Diana's heart and a moan burst from her lips. There was no mistaking him or the big black horse he rode. For a momentshe reeled with a sudden faintness, and then with a tremendous effortshe pulled herself together, dragging her horse's head round and urgedhim back along the track which she had just left, and behind her racedAhmed Ben Hassan, spurring the great, black stallion as he had neverdone before. With ashy face and wild, hunted eyes Diana crouchedforward on the grey's neck, saving him all she could and riding as shehad never ridden in her life. Utterly reckless, she urged the horse tohis utmost pace, regardless of the rough, dangerous track. Perhaps shecould still shake off her pursuer among the tortuous paths of thehills. Nothing mattered but that. Better even an ugly toss and a brokenneck than that he should take her again. Panic-stricken she wanted toshriek and clenched her teeth on her lips to keep back the scream thatrose in her throat. She dared not look behind, but straight aheadbefore her, riding with all her skill, hauling the grey round perilouscorners and bending lower and lower in the saddle to aid him. In herterror she had forgotten what a little distance the hills stretchedfrom where she had entered them, and blindly she turned into the trackby which she had come, leaving the main hills on her right hand andemerging on to the open desert on the south side of the range. Therewas nothing now but the sheer speed of her horse to save her, and howlong could she count on it? Then with a little glimmer of hope sheremembered that the Sheik was riding The Hawk, own brother to the grey, and she knew that neither had ever outpaced the other. She had riddenhard all day, but it was probable that Ahmed Ben Hassan had riddenharder; he never spared his horses, and his weight was considerablygreater than hers. Would it not be possible for Silver Star, carryingthe lighter burden, to outdistance The Hawk? It was a chance. She wouldtake it, but she would never give in. The perspiration was rolling downher face and her breath was coming laboriously. Suddenly, a few minutesafter she had left the hills behind, the Sheik's deep voice cameclearly across the space between them. 

"If you do not stop I will shoot your horse. I give you one minute. "

She swayed a little in the saddle, clutching the grey's neck to steadyherself and for a moment she closed her eyes, but she did not falterfor an instant. She would not stop; nothing on earth should make herstop now. Only, because she knew the man, she kicked her feet clear ofthe stirrups. He had said he would shoot and he would shoot, and if thegrey shied or swerved a hair's breadth she would probably receive thebullet that was meant for him. Better that! Yes, even better that!

Silver Star tore on headlong and the minute seemed a lifetime. Thenbefore even she heard the report he bounded in the air and fell with acrash. Diana was flung far forward and landed on some soft sand. For amoment she was stunned by the fall, then she staggered dizzily to herfeet and stumbled back to the prostrate horse. He was lashing outwildly with his heels, making desperate efforts to rise. And as shereached him the black horse dashed up alongside, stopping suddenly, andrearing straight up. The Sheik leaped to the ground and ran towardsher. He caught her wrist and flung her out of his way, and she laywhere she had fallen, every nerve in her body quivering. She was beatenand with the extinguishing of her last hope all her courage failed her. She gave way to sheer, overwhelming terror, utterly cowed. Everyfaculty was suspended, swallowed up in the one dominating force, thedread of his voice and the dread of the touch of his hands. She heard asecond report and knew that he had put Silver Star out of his misery, and then, in a few seconds, his voice beside her. She got upunsteadily, shrinking from him. 

"Why are you here, and where is Gaston?"

In a stifled voice she told him everything. What did it matter? If shetried to be silent he would force her to speak. 

He made no comment, and bringing The Hawk nearer tossed her up roughlyinto the saddle and swung up behind her, the black breaking at onceinto the usual headlong gallop. She made no kind of resistance, acomplete apathy seemed to have come over her. She did not look at thebody of Silver Star, she looked at nothing, clinging to the front ofthe saddle, and staring ahead of her unseeingly. She had dropped herhelmet when she fell and she had left it, thankful to be relieved ofthe pressure on her aching head. Her mental collapse had affected herphysically, and it needed a real effort of will-power to enable her tosit up right. Very soon they would join the horsemen, who were waitingfor them, and for her pride's sake she must concentrate all her energyto avoid betraying her weakness. 

Ahmed Ben Hassan did not go back through the defile, he turned into alittle path that Diana had overlooked and which skirted the hills. Inabout half-an-hour the troop met them, riding slowly from the oppositedirection. She did not raise her eyes as they approached, but she heardYusef's clear tenor voice calling out to the Sheik, who answeredshortly as the men fell in behind him. Back over the ground that shehad traversed so differently. She knew that it had been madness fromthe first. She should have known that it could never succeed, that shecould never reach civilisation alone. She had been a fool ever toimagine that she could win through. The chance that had thrown heragain into the Sheik's power might just as easily have thrown her intothe hands of any other Arab. Luck had helped Ahmed Ben Hassan even asshe herself had unknowingly played into his hands when he had capturedher first. Fate was with him. It was useless to try and struggleagainst him any more. Her brain was a confused medley of thoughts thatshe was too tired to unravel, strange, conflicting ideas chasing wildlythrough her mind. She did not understand them, she did not try. Theeffort of thinking made her head ache agonisingly. She was conscious ofa great unrest, a dull aching in her heart and a terrible depressionthat was altogether apart from the fear she felt of the Sheik. She gaveup trying to think; she was concerned only with trying to keep herbalance. 

She lifted her head for the first time and looked at the magnificentsky. The sun had almost set, going down in a ball of molten fire, andthe heavens on either side were a riot of gold and crimson and palestgreen, shading off into vivid blue that grew blacker and blacker as theglory of the sunset died away. The scattered palm trees and the far-offhills stood out in strong relief. It was a country of marvellousbeauty, and Diana's heart gave a sudden throb as she realised that shewas going back to it all. She was drooping wearily, unable to situpright any longer, and once or twice she jolted heavily against theman who rode behind her. His nearness had ceased to revolt her; shethought of it with a dull feeling of wonder. She had even a sense ofrelief at the thought of the strength so close to her. Her eyes restedon his hands, showing brown and muscular under the folds of his whiterobes. She knew the power of the long, lean fingers that could, when heliked, be gentle enough. Her eyes filled with sudden tears, but sheblinked them back before they fell. She wanted desperately to cry. Awave of terrible loneliness went over her, a feeling of desolation, anda strange, incomprehensible yearning for what she did not know. As thesunset faded and it grew rapidly dusk a chill wind sprang up and sheshivered from time to time, drooping more and more with fatigue, attimes only half conscious. She had drifted into complete oblivion, whenshe was awakened with a jerk that threw her back violently against theSheik, but she was too tired to more than barely understand that theyhad stopped for something, and that there were palm trees near her. Shefelt herself lifted down and a cloak wrapped round her, and then sheremembered nothing more. She awoke slowly, shaking off a persistentdrowsiness by degrees. She was still tired, but the desperate wearinesswas gone, and she was conscious of a feeling of well-being andsecurity. The cool, night air blew in her face, dissipating hersleepiness. She became aware that night had fallen, and that they werestill steadily galloping southward. In a few moments she was wideawake, and found that she was lying across the saddle in front of theSheik, and that he was holding her in the crook of his arm. Her headwas resting just over his heart, and she could feel the regular beatbeneath her cheek. Wrapped warmly in the cloak and held securely by hisstrong arm at first she was content to give way only to the sensationof bodily rest. It was enough for the moment to lie with relaxedmuscles, to have to make no effort of any kind, to feel the soothingrush of the wind against her face, and the swift, easy gallop of TheHawk as he carried them on through the night. Them! With a start ofrecollection she realised fully whose arm was round her, and whosebreast her head was resting on. Her heart beat with sudden violence. What was the matter with her? Why did she not shrink from the pressureof his arm and the contact of his warm, strong body? What had happenedto her? Quite suddenly she knew--knew that she loved him, that she hadloved him for a long time, even when she thought she hated him and whenshe had fled from him. She knew now why his face had haunted her in thelittle oasis at midday--that it was love calling to her subconsciously. All the confusion of mind that had assailed her when they started onthe homeward journey, the conflicting thoughts and contrary emotions, were explained. But she knew herself at last and knew the love thatfilled her, an overwhelming, passionate love that almost frightened herwith its immensity and with the sudden hold it had laid upon her. Lovehad come to her at last who had scorned it so fiercely. The men who hadloved her had not had the power to touch her, she had given love to noone, she had thought that she could not love, that she was devoid ofall natural affection and that she would never know what love meant. But she knew now--a love of such complete surrender that she had neverconceived. Her heart was given for all time to the fierce desert manwho was so different from all other men whom she had met, a lawlesssavage who had taken her to satisfy a passing fancy and who had treatedher with merciless cruelty. He was a brute, but she loved him, lovedhim for his very brutality and superb animal strength. And he was anArab! A man of different race and colour, a native; Aubrey wouldindiscriminately class him as a "damned nigger. " She did not care. Itmade no difference. A year ago, a few weeks even, she would haveshuddered with repulsion at the bare idea, the thought that a nativecould even touch her had been revolting, but all that was swept awayand was nothing in the face of the love that filled her heart socompletely. She did not care if he was an Arab, she did not care whathe was, he was the man she loved. She was deliriously, insanely happy. She was lying against his heart, and the clasp of his arm was joyunspeakable. She was utterly content; for the moment all life narroweddown to the immediate surroundings, and she wished childishly that theycould ride so for ever through eternity. The night was brilliant. Thestars blazed against the inky blackness of the sky, and the light ofthe full moon was startlingly clear and white. The discordant yellingof a pack of hunting jackals came from a little distance, breaking theperfect stillness. The men were riding in unusual silence, though a lowexclamation or the subdued jingle of accoutrements was heardoccasionally, once some one fired at a night creature that bounded outfrom almost under his horse's feet. But the Sheik flung a word ofsavage command over his shoulder and there were no more shots. Dianastirred slightly, moving her head so that she could see his faceshowing clearly in the bright moonlight, which threw some features intohigh relief and left the rest in dark shadow. She looked at him withquickening breath. He was peering intently ahead, his eyes flashing inthe cold light, his brows drawn together in the characteristic heavyscowl, and the firm chin, so near her face, was pushed out moredoggedly than usual. 

He felt her move and glanced down. For a moment she looked straightinto his eyes, and then with a low, inarticulate murmur she hid herface against him. He did not speak, but he shifted her weight a little, drawing her closer into the curve of his arm. 

It was very late when they reached the camp. Lights flashed up in thebig tent and on all sides, and they were surrounded by a crowd ofexcited tribesmen and servants. In spite of the hard day's work TheHawk started plunging and rearing, his invariable habit on stopping, which nothing could break, and at a word from the Sheik two men leapedto his head while he transferred Diana to Yusef's outstretched arms. She was stiff and giddy, and the young man helped her to the door ofthe tent, and then vanished again into the throng of men and horses. 

Diana sank wearily on to the divan and covered her face with her hands. She was trembling with fatigue and apprehension. What would he do toher? She asked herself the question over and over again, with shaking, soundless lips, praying for courage, nerving herself to meet him. Atlast she heard his voice and, looking up, saw him standing in thedoorway. His back was turned, and he was giving orders to a number ofmen who stood near him, for she could hear their several voices; andshortly afterwards half-a-dozen small bands of men rode quickly away indifferent directions. For a few moments he stood talking to Yusef andthen came in. At the sight of him Diana shrank back among the softcushions, but he took no notice of her, and, lighting a cigarette, began walking up and down the tent. She dared not speak to him, theexpression on his face was terrible. 

Two soft-footed Arab servants brought a hastily prepared supper. It wasa ghastly meal. He never spoke or showed in any way that he wasconscious of her presence. She had had nothing to eat all day, but thefood nearly choked her and she could hardly swallow it, but she forcedherself to eat a little. It seemed interminable until the servantsfinally withdrew, after bringing two little gold-cased cups of nativecoffee. She gulped it down with difficulty. The Sheik had resumed hisrestless pacing, smoking cigarette after cigarette in endlesssuccession. The monotonous tramp to and fro worked on Diana's nervesuntil she winced each time he passed her, and, huddled on the divan, she watched him continually, fascinated, fearful. 

He never looked at her. From time to time he glanced at the watch onhis wrist and each time his face grew blacker. If he would only speak!His silence was worse than anything he could say. What was he going todo? He was capable of doing anything. The suspense was torture. Herhands grew clammy and she wrenched at the soft open collar of herriding-shirt with a feeling of suffocation. 

Twice Yusef came to report, and the second time the Sheik came backslowly from the door where he had been speaking to him and stopped infront of Diana, looking at her strangely. 

She flung out her hands instinctively, shrinking further back among thecushions, her eyes wavering under his. "What are you going to do tome?" she whispered involuntarily, with dry lips. 

He looked at her without answering for a while, as if to prolong thetorture she was enduring, and a cruel look crept into his eyes. "Thatdepends on what happens to Gaston, " he said at length slowly. 

"Gaston?" she repeated stupidly. She had forgotten the valet, in allthat had occurred since the morning she had forgotten his veryexistence. 

"Yes--Gaston, " he said sternly. "You do not seem to have thought ofwhat might happen to him. "

She sat up slowly, a puzzled look coming into her face. "What couldhappen to him?" she asked wonderingly. 

He dragged back the flap of the tent and pointed out into the darkness. "Over there in the south-west, there is an old Sheik whose name isIbraheim Omair. His tribe and mine have been at feud for generations. Lately I have learned that he has been venturing nearer than he hasever before dared. He hates me. To capture my personal servant would bemore luck than he could have hoped for. "

He dropped the flap and began walking up and down again. There was asinister tone in his voice that made Diana suddenly comprehend thelittle Frenchman's peril. Ahmed Ben Hassan was not the man to be easilyalarmed on any one's behalf. That he was anxious about Gaston wasapparent, and with her knowledge of him she understood his anxietyargued a very real danger. She had heard tales before she left Biskra, and since then she had been living in an Arab camp, and she knewsomething of the fiendish cruelty and callous indifference to sufferingof the Arabs. Ghastly mental pictures with appalling details crowdednow into her mind. She shuddered. 

"What would they do to him?" she asked shakily, with a look of horror. 

The Sheik paused beside her. He looked at her curiously and the crueltydeepened in his eyes. "Shall I tell you what they would do to him?" hesaid meaningly, with a terrible smile. 

She gave a cry and flung her arms over her head, hiding her face. "Oh, do not! Do not!" she wailed. 

He jerked the ash from his cigarette. "Bah!" he said contemptuously. "You are squeamish. "

She felt sick with the realisation of what could result to Gaston fromher action. She had had no personal feeling with regard to him. On thecontrary, she liked him--she had not thought of him, the man, when shehad stampeded his horse and left him on foot so far from camp. She hadlooked upon him only as a jailer, his master's deputy. 

The near presence of this hostile Sheik explained many things she hadnot understood: Gaston's evident desire daring their ride not to gobeyond a certain distance, the special activity that had prevailed oflate amongst the Sheik's immediate followers, and the speed and silencethat had been maintained during the headlong gallop across the desertthat evening. She had known all along the Arab's obvious affection forhis French servant, and it was confirmed now by the anxiety that he didnot take the trouble to conceal--so unlike his usual completeindifference to suffering or danger. 

She looked at him thoughtfully. There were still depths that she hadnot fathomed in his strange character. Would she ever arrive at even adistant understanding of his complex nature? There was a misty yearningin her eyes as they followed his tall figure up and down the tent. Hisfeet made no sound on the thick rugs, and he moved with the long, graceful stride that always reminded her of the walk of a wild animal. Her new-found love longed for expression as she watched him. If shecould only tell him! If she had only the right to go to him and in hisarms to kiss away the cruel lines from his mouth! But she had not. Shemust wait until she was called, until he should choose to notice thewoman whom he had taken for his pleasure, until the baser part of himhad need of her again. He was an Arab, and to him a woman was a slave, and as a slave she must give everything and ask for nothing. 

And when he did turn to her again the joy she would feel in his embracewould be an agony for the love that was not there. His careless kisseswould scorch her and the strength of his arms would be a mockery. Butwould he ever turn to her again? If anything happened to Gaston--ifwhat he had suggested became a fact and the servant fell a victim tothe blood feud between the two tribes? She knew he would be terriblyavenged, and what would her part be? She wondered dully if he wouldkill her, and how. If the long, brown fingers with their steelystrength would choke the life out of her. Her hands went up to herthroat mechanically. He stopped near her to light a fresh cigarette, and she was trying to summon up courage to speak to him of Gaston whenthe covering of the doorway was flung open and Gaston himself stood inthe entrance. 

"Monseigneur--" he stammered, and with his two hands outstretched, palmuppermost, he made an appealing gesture. 

The Sheik's hand shot out and gripped the man's shoulder. "Gaston!_Enfin, mon ami!_" he said slowly, but there was a ring in his lowvoice that Diana had never heard before. 

For a moment the two men stared at each other, and then Ahmed BenHassan gave a little laugh of great relief. "Praise be to Allah, theMerciful, the Compassionate, " he murmured. 

"To his name praise!" rejoined Gaston softly, then his eyes rovedaround the tent towards Diana, and there was no resentment in them, butonly anxiety. 

"Madame is----" he hesitated, but the Sheik cut him short. 

"Madame is quite safe, " he said dryly, and pushed him gently towardsthe door with a few words in rapid Arabic. He stood some time afterGaston had gone to his own quarters looking out into the night, andwhen he came in, lingered unusually over closing the flap. Diana stoodhesitating. She was worn out and her long riding-boots felt like lead. She was afraid to go and afraid to stay. He seemed purposely ignoringher. The relief of Gaston's return was enormous, but she had still toreckon with him for her attempted flight. That he said no word about itat the moment meant nothing; she knew him too well for that. And therewas Silver Star, the finest of all his magnificent horses--she had yetto pay for his death. The strain that she had gone through since themorning was tremendous, she could not bear much more. His silenceaggravated her breaking nerves until she felt that her nerves would go. He had moved over to the writing-table and was tearing the wrapping offa box of cartridges preparatory to refilling the magazine of hisrevolver. The little operation seemed to take centuries. She started ateach separate click. She gripped her hands and passed her tongue overher dry lips. If he would not speak she must, she could endure it nolonger. 

"I am sorry about Silver Star, " she faltered, and even to herself hervoice sounded hoarse and strange. He did not answer, but only shruggedhis shoulders as he dropped the last cartridge into its place. 

The gesture and his uncompromising attitude exasperated her. "You hadbetter have shot me, " she said bitterly. 

"Perhaps. You would have been easier replaced. There are plenty ofwomen, but Silver Star was almost unique, " he retorted quickly, and shewinced at the cold brutality of his tone. 

A little sad smile curved her lips. "Yet you shot your horse to get meback, " she said in a barely audible voice. 

He flung round with an oath. "You little fool! Do you know so little ofme yet? Do you think that I will let anything stand between me and whatI want? Do you think that by running away from me you will make me wantyou less? By Allah! I would have found you if you had got as far asFrance. What I have I keep, until I tire of it--and I have not tired ofyou yet. " He jerked her to him, staring down at her passionately, andfor a moment his face was the face of a devil. "How shall I punishyou?" He felt the shudder he expected go through her and laughed as sheshrank in his arms and hid her face. He forced her head up withmerciless fingers. "What do you hate most?--my kisses?" and withanother mocking laugh he crushed his mouth to hers in a longsuffocating embrace. 

Then he let her go suddenly, and, blind and dizzy, she reeled from himand staggered. He caught her as she swayed and swept her into his arms. Her head fell back against his shoulder and his face changed at thesight of her quivering features. He carried her into the adjoining roomand laid her on the couch, his hands lingering as he drew them fromher. For a moment he stood looking down with smouldering eyes on theslight, boyish figure lying on the bed, the ferocity dying out of hisface. "Take care you do not wake the devil in me again, _mabelle, "_ he said sombrely. 

Alone Diana turned her face into the pillows with a moan of anguish. Back in the desert a few hours ago, under the shining stars, when thetruth had first come to her, she had thought that she was happy, butshe knew now that without his love she would never be happy. She hadtasted the bitterness of his loveless kisses and she knew that a worsebitterness was to come, and she writhed at the thought of what her lifewith him would be. 

"I love him! I love him! And I want his love more than anything inHeaven and earth. "

CHAPTER VI

Diana was sitting on the divan in the living-room of the tent lingeringover her _petit dejeuner_, a cup of coffee poised in one hand andher bright head bent over a magazine on her knee. It was a Frenchperiodical of fairly recent date, left a few days before by a Dutchmanwho was touring through the desert, and who had asked a night'shospitality. Diana had not seen him, and it was not until the travellerhad been served with dinner in his own tent that the Sheik had sent theusual flowery message conveying what, though wrapped in honeyed words, amounted practically to a command that he should come to drink coffeeand let himself be seen. Only native servants had been in attendance, and it was an Arab untinged by any Western influence who had receivedhim, talking only Arabic, which the Dutchman spoke fluently, andplacing at his disposal himself, his servants and all his belongingswith the perfunctory Oriental insincerity which the traveller knewmeant nothing and accepted at its own value, returning to the usual setphrases the customary answers that were expected of him. Once or twiceas they talked a woman's subdued voice had reached the Dutchman's earsfrom behind the thick curtains, but he knew too much to let anyexpression betray him, and he smiled grimly to himself at the thoughtof the change that an indiscreet question would bring to the stern faceof his grave and impassive host. He was an elderly man with a tenderheart, and he wondered speculatively what the girl in the next roomwould have to pay for her own indiscretion in allowing her voice to beheard. He left the next morning early without seeing the Sheik again, escorted for some little distance by Yusef and a few men. 

Diana read eagerly. Anything fresh to read was precious. She lookedlike a slender boy in the soft riding-shirt and smart-cut breeches, oneslim foot in a long brown boot drawn up under her, and the otherswinging idly against the side of the divan. She finished her coffeehastily, and, lighting a cigarette, leaned back with a sigh of contentover the magazine. 

Two months had slipped away since her mad flight, since her dash forfreedom that had ended in tragedy for the beautiful Silver Star and sounexpectedly for herself. Weeks of vivid happiness that had been mixedwith poignant suffering, for the perfect joy of being with him wasmarred by the passionate longing for his love. Even her surroundingshad taken on a new aspect, her happiness coloured everything. TheEastern luxury of the tent and its appointments no longer seemedtheatrical, but the natural setting of the magnificent specimen ofmanhood who surrounded himself by all the display dear to the heart ofthe native. How much was for his own pleasure and how much was for thesake of his followers she had never been able to determine. Thebeauties and attractions of the desert had multiplied a hundred times. The wild tribesmen, with their primitive ways and savagery, had ceasedto disgust her, and the free life with its constant exercise and simpleroutine was becoming indefinitely dear to her. The camp had been movedseveral times--always towards the south--and each change had been asource of greater interest. 

And since the night that he had carried her back in triumph he had beenkind to her--kind beyond anything that she had expected. He had nevermade any reference to her fight or to the death of the horse that hehad valued so highly; in that he had been generous. The episode over, he wished no further allusion to it. But there was nothing beyondkindness. The passion that smouldered in his dark eyes often was notthe love she craved, it was only the desire that her uncommon type andher utter dissimilarity from all the other women who had passed throughhis hands had awakened in him. The perpetual remembrance of those otherwoman brought her a constant burning shame that grew stronger everyday, a shame that was only less strong than her ardent love, and a wildjealousy that tortured her with doubts and fears, an ever-present demonof suggestion reminding her of the past when it was not she who lay inhis arms, nor her lips that received his kisses. The knowledge that theembraces she panted for had been shared by _les autres_ was anopen wound that would not heal. She tried to shut her mind to the past. She knew that she was a fool to expect the abstinence of a monk in thestrong, virile desert man. And she was afraid for the future. Shewanted him for herself alone, wanted his undivided love, and that hewas an Arab with Oriental instincts filled her with continual dread, dread of the real future about which she never dared to think, dread ofthe passing of his transient desire. She loved him so passionately, socompletely, that beyond him was nothing. He was all the world. She gaveherself to him gladly, triumphantly, as she would give her life for himif need be. But she had schooled herself to hide her love, to yieldapathetically to his caresses, and to conceal the longing thatpossessed her. She was afraid that the knowledge that she loved himwould bring about the disaster she dreaded. The words that he had onceused remained continually in her mind: "If you loved me you would boreme, and I should have to let you go. " And she hid her love closely inher heart. It was difficult, and it hurt her to hide it from him and toassume indifference. It was difficult to remember that she must make ashow of reluctance when she was longing to give unreservedly. Shedropped the end of the cigarette hissing into the dregs of the coffeeand turned a page, and, as she did so, she looked up suddenly, themagazine dropping unheeded on the floor. Close outside the tent thesame low, vibrating baritone was singing the Kashmiri love song thatshe had heard last the night before she left Biskra. She sat tense, hereyes growing puzzled. 

_"Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar. Where are you now? Who liesbeneath your spell?"_

The voice came nearer and he swept in, still singing, and came to her. _"Pale hands, pink tipped, "_ he sang, stopping in front of her andcatching her fingers in his up to his lips, but she tore them awaybefore he kissed them. 

"You do know English?" she cried sharply, her eyes searching his. 

He flung himself on the divan beside her with a laugh. "Because I singan English song?" he replied in French. "_La! la!_ I heard aSpanish boy singing in 'Carmen' once in Paris who did not know a wordof French beside the score. He learned it parrot-like, as I learn yourEnglish songs, " he added, smiling. 

She watched him light a cigarette, and her forehead wrinkledthoughtfully. "It was you who sang outside the hotel in Biskra thatnight?" she asked at last, more statement than question. 

"One is mad sometimes, especially when the moon is high, " he repliedteasingly. 

"And was it you who came into my bedroom and put the blank cartridgesin my revolver?"

His arm stole round her, drawing her to him, and he lifted her head upso that he could look into her eyes. "Do you think that--I would haveallowed anybody else to go to your room at night?--I, an Arab, when Imeant you for myself?"

"You were so sure?"

He laughed softly, as if the suggestion that any plan of his could beliable to miscarriage amused him infinitely, and the smoulderingpassion flamed up in his dark eyes. He strained her to him hungrily, asif her slim body lying against his had awakened the sleeping fireswithin him. She struggled against the pressure of his arm, averting herhead. 

"Always cold?" he chided. "Kiss me, little piece of ice. "

She longed to, and it almost broke her heart to persevere in herefforts to repulse him. A wild desire seized her to tell him that sheloved him, to make an end once and for all of the misery of doubt andfear that was sapping her strength from her, and abide by the issue. But the spark of hope that lived in her heart gave her courage, and shefought down the burning words that sought utterance, forcingindifference into her eyes and a mutinous pout to her lips. 

His black brows drew together slowly. "Still disobedient? You said youwould obey me. I loathe the English, but I thought their word----"

She interrupted him with a quick gesture, and, turning her face to his, for the first time kissed him voluntarily, brushing his tanned cheekwith swift, cold lips. 

He laughed disdainfully. "_Bon Dieu_! Has the hot sun of thedesert taught you no better than that? Have you learned so little fromme? Has the vile climate of your detestable country frozen you sothoroughly that nothing can melt you? Or is there some man in Englandwho has the power to turn you from a statue to a woman?" he added, withan angry snarl. 

She clenched her hands with the pain of his words. "There is no one, "she muttered, "but I--I don't feel like that. "

"You had better learn, " he said thickly. "I am tired of holding anicicle in my arms, " and sweeping her completely into his masterfulgrasp he covered her face with fierce, burning kisses. 

And for the first time she surrendered to him wholly, clinging to himpassionately, and giving him kiss for kiss with an absolute abandon ofall resistance. At last he let her go, panting and breathless, andleaped up, drawing his hand across his eyes. 

"You go to my head, Diane, " he said, with a laugh that was half anger, and shrugging his shoulders moved across the tent to the chest wherethe spare arms were kept, and unlocking it took out a revolver andbegan to clean it. 

She looked at him bewildered. What had he meant? How could shereconcile what he said with the advice that he had given her before?Was he totally inconsistent? Did he, after all, want the satisfactionof knowing that he had made her love him--of flattering himself on thepower he exercised over her? Did he care that he was able to tortureher heart with a refinement of cruelty that took all and gave nothing?Did he wish her to crawl abjectly to his feet to give him the pleasureof spurning her contemptuously, or was it only that he wanted hersenses merely to respond to his ardent, Eastern temperament? Her facegrew hot and shamed. She knew the fiery nature that was hidden underhis impassive exterior and knew the control he exercised over himself, knew, too, that the strain he put upon himself was liable to be brokenwith unexpected suddenness. It was an easy thing to rule his wildfollowers, and she guessed that the relaxation that he looked for inthe privacy of his own tent meant more to him than he would ever haveadmitted, than perhaps he even know. The hatred and defiance with whichshe had repelled him had provoked and amused him, but it had also attimes angered him. 

He was very human, and there must have been moments when he wanted awilling mate rather than a rebellious prisoner. She gave a quick sighas she looked at him. He was so strong, so vigorous, so intenselyalive. It was going to be very difficult to anticipate his moods and besubservient to his temper. She sighed again wearily. If she could butmake him and keep him happy. She ruffled her loose curls, tugging themwith a puzzled frown, a trick that was a survival of her nursery days, when she clutched frantically at her red-gold mop to help her settleany childish difficulty. 

She knelt up suddenly on the cushions of the divan. "Why do you hatethe English so bitterly, Monseigneur?" She had dropped almostunconsciously into Gaston's mode of address for some time; it was oftenawkward to give him no name, and she shrank from using his own; and thetitle fitted him. 

He looked up from his work, and, gathering the materials together, brought them over to the divan. "Light me a cigarette, _cherie_, my hands are busy, " he replied irrelevantly. 

She complied with a little laugh. "You haven't answered my question. "

He polished the gleaming little weapon in his hand for some timewithout speaking. "_Ma petite_ Diane, your lips are of an adorableredness and your voice is music in my ears, but--I detest questions. They bore me to a point of exasperation, " he said at last lightly, andstarted humming the Kashmiri song again. 

She knew him well enough to know that all questions did not bore him, but that she must have touched some point connected with the past ofwhich she was ignorant that affected him, and to prove her knowledgeshe asked another question. "Why do you sing? You have never sungbefore. "

He looked at her with a smile of amusement at her pertinacity. "Inquisitive one! I sing because I am glad. Because my friend iscoming. "

"Your friend?"

"Yes, by Allah! The best friend a man ever had. Raoul de Saint Hubert. "

She flashed a look at the bookcase with a jerk of her head, and henodded. "Coming here?" she queried, and the dismay she felt sounded inher voice. 

He frowned in quick annoyance at her tone. "Why not?" he saidhaughtily. 

"No reason, " she murmured, sinking down among the cushions again andpicking up the magazine from the floor. The advent of a stranger--aEuropean--was a shock, but she felt that the Sheik's eyes were on herand she determined to show no feeling in his presence. "What time willyou be ready to ride?" she asked indifferently, with a simulated yawn, flirting over the pages. 

"I can't ride with you to-day. I am going to meet Saint Hubert. Hiscourier only came an hour ago. It is two years since I have seen him. "

Diana slipped off the couch and went to the open doorway. A detachmentof men were already waiting for him, and, close by the tent, Shaitan ofthe ugly temper was biting and fidgeting in the hands of the grooms. She scowled at the beautiful, wicked creature's flat-laid ears androlling eyes. She would have backed him fearlessly herself if the Sheikhad let her, but she was nervous for him every time he rode the viciousbeast. No one but the Sheik could manage him, and though she knew thathe had perfect mastery over the horse, she never lost the feeling ofnervousness, a sensation the old Diana had never, never experienced, and she wished to-day that it had been any other horse but Shaitanwaiting for him. 

She went back to him slowly. "It makes my head ache, to stay in allday. May Gaston not ride with me?" she asked diffidently, her eyesanywhere but on his face. He had not allowed her to ride with any oneexcept himself since her attempted escape, and to her tentativesuggestions that the rides with the valet might be resumed he had givena prompt refusal. He hesitated now, and she was afraid he was going torefuse again, and she looked up wistfully. "Please, Monseigneur, " shewhispered humbly. 

He looked at her for a moment with his chin squarer than usual. "Areyou going to run away again?" he asked bluntly. 

Her eyes filled slowly with tears, and she turned her head away to hidethem. "No, I am not going to run away again, " she said very low. 

"Very well, I will tell him. He will be delighted, _le bon_Gaston. He is your very willing slave in spite of the trick you playedhim. He has a beautiful nature, _le pauvre diable_. He is not anArab, eh, little Diane?" The mocking smile was back in his eyes as heturned her face up to his in the usual peremptory way. Then he held outthe revolver he had been cleaning with sudden seriousness. "I want youto carry this always now when you ride. Ibraheim Omair is still in theneighbourhood. "

She looked at it blankly. 

"But----" she stammered. 

He knew what was in her mind, and he stooped and kissed her lightly. "Itrust you, " he said quietly, and went out. 

She followed him to the door, the revolver dangling from her hand, andwatched him mount and ride away. His horsemanship was superb and hereyes glowed as they followed him. She went back into the tent andslipped the revolver into the holster he had left lying on a stool, and, tucking it and Saint Hubert's novel, which she took from thebookcase, under her arm, went into the bed-room and, calling to Zilahto pull off her riding-boots, threw herself on the bed to laze away themorning, and to try and picture the author from the book he hadwritten. 

She hated him in advance; she was jealous of him and of his coming. TheSheik's sudden new tenderness had given rise to a hope she hardly daredallow herself to dwell upon. Might not the power that she had exercisedover other men be still extended to him in spite of the months that hehad been indifferent to anything except the mere physical attractionshe had for him? Was it not possible that out of that attraction mightdevelop something finer and better than the primitive desire she hadaroused? Oriental though he was, might he not be capable of a deep andlasting affection? He might have loved her if no outside influence hadcome to interrupt the routine that had become so intimately a part ofhis life. Those other episodes to which he had referred so lightly hadbeen a matter of days or weeks, not months, as in her case. He mighthave cared but for the coming of this Frenchman. She hurled SaintHubert's book across the room in a fit of girlish rage and buried herhead in her arms. He would be odious--a smirking, conceited egotist!She had met several French writers and she visualised himcontemptuously. His books were undoubtedly clever. So much the worse;he would be correspondingly inflated. His novel revealed a passionate, emotional temperament that promised to complicate the situation if heshould be pleased to cast an eye of favour on her. She writhed at thevery thought. And that he was to see her was evident; the Sheik hadleft no orders to the contrary. It was not to be the case of the Dutchtraveller, when the fact that she belonged to an Arab had been broughthome to her effectually by Ahmed Ben Hassan's peremptory commands, andshe had experienced for the first time the sensation of a woman kept inseclusion. 

The emotions of the morning and the disappointment of the intendedride, together with the dismay produced by the unexpected visitor, allcombined to agitate her powerfully, and she worked herself up into afever of self-torture and unhappiness. She ended by falling asleep andslept heavily for some hours. Zilah waked her with a shy hand on herarm and a soft announcement of lunch, and Diana sat up, rubbing hereyes, flushed and drowsy. She stared uncomprehendingly for a moment atthe Arab girl, and then waved her away imperiously and buried her headin the pillows again. Lunch, when her heart was breaking!

Mindful of her lord's deputy, who was waiting in the next room, andwhom she regarded with awe, Zilah held her ground with a timidinsistence until Diana started up wrathfully and bade her go in tonesthat she had never used before to the little waiting-girl. Zilah fledprecipitately, and, thoroughly awakened, Diana swung her heels to theground and with her elbows on her knees rested her hot head in herhands. She felt giddy, her head ached and her mouth was parched anddry. She got up languidly, and going to the table studied her face inthe mirror intently. She frowned at the reflection. She had never beenproud of her own beauty; she had lived with it always and it had seemedto her a thing of no consequence, and now that it had failed to arousethe love she wanted in Ahmed Ben Hassan she almost hated it. 

"Are you going to have fever or are you merely bad-tempered?" she askedout loud, and the sound of her own voice made her laugh in spite of herheavy heart. She went into the bathroom and soused her head in coldwater. When she came back a frightened Zilah was putting a small trayon the brass-topped table by the bed. 

"M'seiur Gaston, " she stammered, almost crying. 

Diana looked at the tray, arranged with all the dainty neatness dear tothe valet's heart, and then at the travelling clock on the table besideit, and realised that it was an hour past her usual lunch-time and thatshe was extremely hungry, after all. A little piece of paper on thetray caught her eye, and, picking it up, she read in Gaston's clearthough minute handwriting, "At what hour does Madame desire to ride?"

The servant clearly had no intention of giving up the programme for theafternoon without a struggle. She smiled as she added a figure to theend of the note, and went to the curtains that divided the rooms. "Gaston!"

"Madame!"

She passed the paper silently through the curtains and went back to herlunch. When she sent Zilah away with the empty tray she rescued theVicomte de Saint Hubert's book from the floor where she had thrown itand tried to read it dispassionately. She turned to the title-page andstudied the pencilled scrawl "Souvenir de Raoul" closely. It did notlook like the handwriting of a small-minded man, but handwriting wasnothing to go by, she argued obstinately. Aubrey, who was the essenceof selfishness, wrote beautifully, and had once been told by an expertthat his writing denoted a generous love of his fellow-men, whichdeduction had aroused no enthusiasm in the baronet, and had given hissister over to helpless mirth. She turned the pages, dipping here andthere, finally forgetting the author altogether in the book. It was awonderful story of a man's love and faithfulness, and Diana pushed itaside at last with a very bitter sigh. Things happened so in books. Inreal life they happened very differently. She looked round the roomwith pain-filled eyes, at the medley of her own and the Sheik'sbelongings, her ivory toilet appointments jostling indiscriminatelyamong his brushes and his razors on the dressing-table, and then at thepillow beside her where his head rested every night. She stooped andkissed it with a little quivering breath. "Ahmed. Oh, Monseigneur!" shemurmured longingly. Then, with an impatient jerk of the head, shesprang up and dragged on her boots. She pulled a soft felt hat downover her eyes and picked up the revolver the Sheik had given her. Shepaused a moment, looking at it with an odd smile before buckling itround her slim waist. Gaston's face lit up with genuine pleasure whenshe came out to the horses. She had felt a momentary embarrassmentbefore she left the tent, thinking of the last time he had ridden withher, but she had known from the moment he came back that night that hebore no malice, and the look on his face and his stammered words to theSheik had indicated that the fear he felt for her was not for whatmight have happened in the desert, but for what might yet happen to herat the hands of his master and hers. 

The horse that she rode always now was pure white, not so fast asSilver Star and very tricky, called The Dancer, from a nervous habit ofdancing on his hind-legs at starting and stopping, like a circus-horse. He was difficult to mount, and edged away shyly as Diana tried to gether foot into the stirrup. But she swung up at last, and by the timeThe Dancer had finished his display of _haute ecole_ Gaston wasmounted. "After riding The Dancer I feel confident to enter for the_Concours Hippique_, " she laughed over her shoulder, and touchedthe horse with her heel. 

She wanted exercise primarily, hard physical exercise that would tireher out and keep her mind occupied and prevent her from thinking, andthe horse she rode supplied both needs. He required watching all thetime. She let him out to his full pace for his own sake and hers, andthe air and the movement banished her headache, and a kind ofexhilaration came over her, making her almost happy. After a while shereined in her horse and waved to Gaston to come alongside. "Tell me ofthis Vicomte de Saint Hubert who is coming. You know him, I suppose, asyou have been so long with Monseigneur?"

Gaston smiled. "I knew him before Monseigneur did. I was born on theestate of Monsieur le Comte de Saint Hubert, the father of Monsieur leVicomte. I and my twin brother Henri. We both went into Monsieur's leComte's training stables, and then after our time in the Cavalry Henribecame valet to Monsieur le Vicomte, and I came to Monseigneur. "

Diana took off her hat and rubbed her forehead thoughtfully. Fifteenyears ago Ahmed must have been about twenty. Why should an Arab chiefof that age, or any age, indulge in such an anomaly as a French valet, or for that matter why should a French valet attach himself to an ArabSheik and exile himself in the wilds of the desert? Whichever way sheturned, the mystery of the man she loved seemed to crop up. She startedarguing with herself in a circle--why should the Sheik have a Europeanservant or why should he not, until she gave it up in hopelessconfusion. 

She turned to Gaston with the intention of asking further of the comingvisitor, and, keeping The Dancer as still as she could, sat looking atthe valet with great, questioning eyes, fanning her hot face with herhat. Gaston, whose own horse stood like a rock, was frankly mopping hisforehead. Dianna decided against any more questions. Gaston wouldnaturally be hopelessly biased, having been born and brought up in theshadow of the family, and after all she would rather judge for herself. One inquiry only she permitted herself: "The family of Saint Hubert, are they of the old or the new _noblesse?"_

"Of the old, Madame, " replied Gaston quickly. 

Diana coaxed her nervous mount close beside his steadier companion, and, thrusting his bridle and her hat into Gaston's hands, slipped tothe ground and walked away a little distance to the top of a smallmound. She sat down on the summit with her back to the horses and herarms clasped round her knees. All that the coming of this strange manmeant to her rushed suddenly over her. He was a man, obviously, whomoved in the world, her world, since he apparently travelledextensively and his father was wealthy enough to run a racing stable asa hobby and was a member of the dwindling class of _anciennenoblesse_. It was characteristic of her that she put first what shedid. How could she bear to meet one of her own order in the position inwhich she was? She who had been proud Diana Mayo and now--the mistressof an Arab Sheik? She laid her face on her knees with a shudder. Theordeal before her cut like a knife into her heart. The pride that AhmedBen Hassan had not yet killed flamed up and racked her with humiliationand shame, the shame that still seared her soul like a hot iron, sothat there were moments she could not bear even the presence of the manwho had made her what she was, in spite of the love she bore him, and, pleading fever, prayed to be alone. Not that he ever granted herprayer, for he knew fever when he saw it, but would pull her downbeside him with a mocking laugh that still had the power to hurt somuch. The thought of what it would be to her to meet his friend hadpresumably never entered his mind, or if it had it had made noimpression and been dismissed as negligible. It was the point of view, she supposed drearily; the standpoint from which he looked at thingswas fundamentally different from her own--racially and temperamentallythey were poles apart. To him she was only the woman held in bondage, athing of no account. She sat very still for a while with her facehidden, until a discreet cough from Gaston warned her that time wasflying. She went back to the horses slowly with white face andcompressed lips. There was the usual trouble in mounting, and herstrained nerves made her impatient of The Dancer's idiosyncrasies, andshe checked him sharply, making him rear dangerously. 

"Careful, Madame, " cried Gaston warningly. 

"For whom--me or Monseigneur's horse?" she retorted bitterly, andignoring her hat, which Gaston held out to her with reproachful eyes, she spurred the horse viciously, making him break into a headlonggallop. It had got to be gone through, so get it over as soon aspossible. And behind her, Gaston, for the first time in all his longservice, cursed the master he would cheerfully have died for. 

The horse's nerves, like her own, were on edge, and he pulled badly, his smooth satiny neck growing dark and seamed with sweat; Diana neededall her knowledge to control him, and she began to wonder if when theycame to the camp she would be able to stop him. She topped anundulation that was some little distance from the tents withmisgivings, and wrapped the reins round her hands to prevent themslipping through her fingers. As they neared she saw the Sheik standingoutside his tent, with a tall, thin man beside him. She had only aglimpse of dark, unruly hair and a close-cut beard as she shot past, unable to pull up The Dancer. But just beyond the tent, with the reinscutting into her hands, she managed to haul him round and bring himback. A couple of grooms jumped to his head, but, owing to his peculiartactics, landed short, and he pranced to his own satisfaction andDiana's rage, until the amusement of it passed and he let himself becaught. Diana had done nothing to stop him once she had managed to turnhim. If the horse chose to behave like a fool she was not going to bemade to look foolish by fighting him when she knew that it was useless. In the hands of the men he sidled and snorted, and, dropping the reins, Diana pulled off her gloves and sat for a moment rubbing her sorehands. Then the Sheik came forward and she slid down. Before looking athim she turned and, catching at The Dancer's head, struck him angrilyover the nose with her thick riding-gloves and watched him led away, plunging and protesting, pulling the gloves through her fingersnervously, until Ahmed Ben Hassan's voice made her turn. 

"Diane, the Vicomte de Saint Hubert waits to be presented to you. "

She drew herself up and the colour that had come into her face drainedout of it again. Slowly she glanced up at the man standing before her, and looked straight into the most sympathetic eyes that her own sad, defiant ones had ever seen. Only for a moment, then he bowed with aconventional murmur that was barely audible. 

His lack of words gave her courage. "Monsieur, " she said coldly inresponse to his greeting, then turned to the Sheik without looking athim. "The Dancer has behaved abominably. Gaston, my hat, please!Thanks. " And vanished into the tent without a further look at any one. 

It was late, but she lingered over her bath and changed with slowreluctance into the green dress that the Sheik preferred--a concessionthat she despised herself for making. She had taken up the jadenecklace when he joined her. 

He turned her to him roughly, with his hands on her shoulders, and themerciless pressure of his fingers was indication enough without theblack scowl on his face that he was angry. "You are not very cordial tomy guest. "

"Is it required of a slave to be cordial towards her master's friends?"she replied in a stifled voice. 

"What is required is obedience to my wishes, " he said harshly. 

"And is it your wish that I should please this Frenchman?"

"It is my wish. "

"If I were a woman of your own race----" she began bitterly, but heinterrupted her. 

"If you were a woman of my own race there would be no question of it, "he said coldly. "You would be for the eyes of no other man than me. Butsince you are not----" He broke off with an enigmatical jerk of thehead. 

"Since I am not you are less merciful than if I was, " she criedmiserably. "I could wish that I was an Arab woman. "

"I doubt it, " he said grimly. "The life of an Arab woman would hardlybe to your taste. We teach our women obedience with a whip. "

"Why have you changed so since this morning, " she whispered, "when youtold me that you trusted no one to climb to my balcony in the hotel butyourself? Are you not an Arab now as then? Have I become of so littlevalue to you that you are not even jealous any more?"

"I can trust my friend, and--I do not propose to share you with him, "he said brutally. 

She winced as if he had struck her, and hid her face in her hands witha low cry. 

His fingers gripped her shoulder cruelly. "You will do as I wish?" Thewords were a question, but the intonation was a command. 

"I have no choice, " she murmured faintly. 

His hands dropped to his sides and he turned to leave the room, but shecaught his arm. "Monseigneur! Have you no pity? Will you not spare methis ordeal?"

He made a gesture of refusal. "You exaggerate, " he said impatiently, brushing her hand from his arm. 

"If you will be merciful this once----. " she pleaded breathlessly, buthe cut her short with a fierce oath. "If?" he echoed. "Do you makebargains with me? Have you so much yet to learn?"

She looked at him with a little weary sigh. The changing mood that shehad set herself to watch for had come upon him suddenly and found herunprepared. The gentleness of the morning had vanished and he hadreverted to the tyrannical, arbitrary despot of two months ago. Sheknew that it was her own fault. She knew him well enough to know thathe was intolerant of any interference with his wishes. She had learnedthe futility of setting her determination against his. There was onemaster in his camp, whose orders, however difficult, must be obeyed. 

His attention had concentrated on a broken fingernail, and he turned tothe dressing-table for a knife. She followed him with her eyes andwatched him carefully trimming the nail. She had often, amongst themany things that puzzled her, wondered at the fastidious care he tookof his well-manicured hands. The light of the lamp fell full on hisface, and there was a dull ache in her heart as she looked at him. Hedemanded implicit obedience, and only a few hours before she had madeup her mind to unreserved submission, and she had broken down at thefirst test. The proof of her obedience was a hard one, from which sheshrank, but it was harder far to see the look of anger she had provokedon the face of the man she loved. For two months of wild happiness ithad been absent, the black scowl she had learned to dread had not beendirected at her, and the fierce eyes had looked at her with onlykindness or amusement shining in their dark depths. Anything could beborne but a continuance of his displeasure. No sacrifice was too greatto gain his forgiveness. She could not bear his anger. She longed sodesperately for happiness, and she loved him so passionately, soutterly, that she was content to give up everything to his will. If shecould only get back the man of the last few weeks, if she had notangered him too far. She was at his feet, tamed thoroughly at last, allher proud, angry self-will swamped in the love that was consuming herwith an intensity that was an agony. Love was a bitter pain, a tormentthat was almost unendurable, a happiness that mocked her with itshollowness, a misery that tortured her with visions of what might havebeen. She went to him slowly, and he turned to her abruptly. 

"Well?" His voice was hard and uncompromising, and the flash of hiseyes was like the tiger's in the Indian jungle. 

She set her teeth to keep down the old paralysing fear. 

"I will do what you want. I will do anything you want, only be kind tome, Ahmed, " she whispered unsteadily. She had never called him by hisname before; she did not even know that she had done so now, but at thesound of it a curious look crossed his face, and he drew her into hisarms with hands that were as gentle as they had been cruel before. Shelet him lift her face to his, and met his searching gaze bravely. Holding her look with the mesmerism that he could exert when he chose, he read in her face her final surrender, and knew that while it pleasedhim to keep her he had broken her utterly to his hand. A strangeexpression grew in his eyes as they travelled slowly over her. She waslike a fragile reed in his strong grasp that he could crush without aneffort, and yet for four months she had fought him, matching hisdetermination with a courage that had won his admiration even while ithad exasperated him. He knew she feared him, he had seen terror leapinto her flickering eyes when she had defied him most. Her defiance andher hatred, which had piqued him by contrast with the fawning adulationto which he had been accustomed and which had wearied him infinitely, had provoked in him a fixed resolve to master her. Before he tired ofher she must yield her will to him absolutely. And to-night he knewthat the last struggle had been made, that she would never oppose himagain, that she was clay in his hands to do with as he would. And theknowledge that he had won gave him no feeling of exultation, instead avague, indefinite sense of irritation swept over him and made him swearsoftly under his breath. The satisfaction he had expected in histriumph was lacking and the unaccountable dissatisfaction that filledhim seemed inexplicable. He did not understand himself, and he lookeddown at her again with a touch of impatience. She was very lovely, hethought, with a strange new appreciation of the beauty he hadappropriated, and very womanly in the soft, clinging green dress. Theslim, boyish figure that rode with him had a charm all its own, but itwas the woman in her that sent the hot blood racing through his veinsand made his heart beat as it was beating now. His eyes lingered amoment on her bright curls, on her dark-fringed, pleading eyes and onher bare neck, startlingly white against the jade green of her gown, then he put her from him. 

"_Va_, " he said gently, "_depeche-toi_. "

She looked after him as he went through the curtains with a long, sobbing sigh. She was paying a heavy price for her happiness, but shewould have paid a heavier one willingly. Nothing mattered now that hewas not angry any more. She knew what her total submission meant: itwas an end to all individualism, a complete self-abnegation, anabsolute surrender to his wishes, his moods and his temper. And she wascontent that it should be so, her love was prepared to endure whateverhe might put upon her. Nothing that he could do could alter that, andnothing should make her own her love. She had hidden it from him, andshe would hide it from him--cost what it might. Though he did not loveher he wanted her still; she had read that in his eyes five minutesago, and she was happy even for that. 

She turned to the glass suddenly and wrenched the silk folds off hershoulder. She looked at the marks of his fingers on the delicate skinwith a twist of the lips, then shut her eyes with a little gasp and hidher bruised arm hastily, her mouth quivering. But she did not blamehim, she had brought it on herself; she knew his mood, and he did notknow his own strength. 

"If he killed me he could not kill my love, " she murmured, with alittle pitiful smile. 

The men were waiting for her, and with a murmured apology for herlateness she took her place. The Sheik and his guest resumed theconversation that her entrance had interrupted. Diana's thoughts werein confusion. She felt as if she were in some wild, improbable dream. An Arab Sheik, a French explorer, and herself playing the conventionalhostess in the midst of lawless unconventionalism. She looked aroundthe tent that had become so familiar, so dear. It seemed differentto-night, as if the advent of the stranger had introduced a foreignatmosphere. She had grown so accustomed to the routine that had beenimposed upon her that even the Vicomte's servant standing behind hismaster seemed strange. The man's likeness to his twin brother wasstriking, the only difference being that while Gaston's face wasclean-shaven, Henri's upper lip was hidden by a neat, dark moustache. The service was, as always, perfect, silent and quick. 

She glanced at the Sheik covertly. There was a look on his face thatshe had never seen and a ring in his voice that was different even fromthe tone she had heard when Gaston had come back on the night of herflight. That had been relief and the affection of a man for a valuedservant, this was the deep affection of a man for the one chosenfriend, the love passing the love of women. And the jealousy she hadfelt in the morning welled up uncontrollably. She looked from the Sheikto the man who was absorbing all his attention, but in his pale, cleverface, half hidden by the close beard, she saw no trace of theconceited, smirking egotist she had imagined, and his voice, as low asthe Sheik's, but more animated, was not the voice of a man undulyelated or conscious of himself. And as she looked her eyes met his. Asmile that was extraordinarily sweet and half-sad lit up his face. 

"Is it permitted to admire Madame's horsemanship?" he asked, with alittle bow. 

Diana coloured faintly and twisted the jade necklace round her fingersnervously. "It is nothing, " she said, with a shy smile that hissympathetic personality evoked in spite of herself. "With The Dancer itis all foolishness and not vice. One has to hold on very tightly. Itwould have been humiliating to precipitate myself at the feet of astranger. Monseigneur would not have approved of the concession to TheDancer's peculiarities. It is an education to ride his horses, Monsieur. "

"It is a strain to the nerves to ride _beside_ some of them, "replied the Vicomte pointedly. 

Diana laughed with pure amusement. The man whose coming she had loathedwas making the dreadful ordeal very easy for her. "I sympathise, Monsieur. Was Shaitan very vile?"

"If Monsieur de Saint Hubert is trying to suggest to you that hesuffers from nerves, Diane, " broke in the Sheik, with a laugh, "disabuse yourself at once. He has none. "

Saint Hubert turned to him with a quick smile. _"Et toi, _ Ahmed, eh? Do you remember----?" and he plunged into a flood of reminiscencesthat lasted until the end of dinner. 

The Vicomte had brought with him a pile of newspapers and magazines, and Diana curled up on the divan with an armful, hungry for news, but, somehow, as she dipped into the batch of papers her interest waned. After four months of complete isolation it was difficult to pick up thethreads of current events, allusions were incomprehensible, andcontroversies seemed pointless. The happenings of the world appearedtame beside the great adventure that was carrying her on irresistiblyand whose end she could not see and dared not think of. She pushed themaside carelessly and kept only on her knee a magazine that served as apretext for her silence. 

When Gaston brought coffee the Vicomte hailed him with a gay laugh. "_Enfin, _ Gaston, after two years the nectar of the gods again!There is a new machine for you amongst my things, _mon ami, _providing it has survived Henri's packing. "

He brought a cup to Diana and set it on a stool beside her. "Ahmedflatters himself I come to see him, Madame. I do not. I come to drinkGaston's coffee. It has become proverbial, the coffee of Gaston. Ipropitiate him every time I come with a new apparatus for making it. The last is a marvel of ingenuity. Excuse me, I go to drink it with thereverence it inspires. It is a rite, Madame, not a gastronomicindulgence. "

Once more the sympathetic eyes looked straight into hers, and the quickblood rushed into her face as she bent her head again hurriedly overthe magazine. She knew instinctively that he was trying to help her, talking nonsense with a tact that ignored her equivocal position. Shewas grateful to him, but even his chivalry hurt. She watched him underher thick lashes as he went back to the Sheik and sat down beside him, refusing his host's proffered cigarettes with a wry face of disgust anda laughing reference to a "perverted palate, " as he searched for hisown. The hatred she had been prepared to give him had died away duringdinner--only the jealousy remained, and even that had changed from itsfirst intensity to an envy that brought a sob into her throat. Sheenvied him the light that shone in the Arab's dark eyes, she envied himthe intonation of the soft slow voice she loved. Her eyes turned to theSheik. He was leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head, talking with a cigarette between his teeth. His attitude towards hisEuropean friend was that of an equal, the haughty, peremptory accentthat was noticeable when he spoke to his followers was gone, and a flatcontradiction from Saint Hubert provoked only a laugh and a gesture ofacceptance. 

As they sat talking the contrast between the two men was stronglymarked. Beside the Frenchman's thin, spare frame and pale face, whichgave him an air of delicacy, the Sheik looked like a magnificent animalin superb condition, and his quiet repose accentuated the Vicomte'squick, nervous manner. Under the screen of her thick lashes Dianawatched them unheeded. Their voices rose and fell continuously; theyseemed to have a great deal to say to each other, and they talkedindiscriminately French and Arabic so that much that they said wasincomprehensible to her. She was glad that it should be so, she did notwant to know what they were saying. It seemed as if they had forgottenher presence with the accumulated conversation of two years. She wasthankful to be left alone, happy for the rare chance of studying thebeloved face unnoticed. It was seldom she had the opportunity, for whenthey were alone she was afraid to look at him much lest her secretshould be betrayed in her eyes. But she looked at him now unobserved, with passionate longing. She was so intent that she did not noticeGaston come in until he seemed suddenly to appear from nowhere besidehis master. He murmured something softly and the Sheik got up. Heturned to Saint Hubert. 

"Trouble with one of the horses. Will you come? It may interest you. "

They went out together, leaving her alone, and she slipped away to theinner room. In half-an-hour they came back, and for a few minuteslonger stayed chatting, then the Vicomte yawned and held out his watchwith a laugh. The Sheik went with him to his tent and sat down on theside of his guest's camp-bed. Saint Hubert dismissed the waiting Henriwith a nod and started to undress silently. The flow of talk and readylaugh seemed to have deserted him, and he frowned as he wrenched histhings off with nervous irritability. 

The Sheik watched him for a while, and then took the cigarette out ofhis mouth with a faint smile. "_Eh, bien!_ Raoul, say it, " he saidquietly. 

Saint Hubert swung round. "You might have spared her, " he cried. 

"What?"

"What? Good God, man! Me!"

The Sheik flicked the ash from his cigarette with a gesture ofindifference. "Your courier was delayed, he only came this morning. Itwas too late then to make other arrangements. "

Saint Hubert took a hasty turn up and down the tent and stopped infront of the Sheik with his hands thrust deep in his pockets and hisshoulders hunched up about his ears. "It is abominable, " he burst out. "You go too far, Ahmed. "

The Sheik laughed cynically. "What do you expect of a savage? When anArab sees a woman that he wants he takes her. I only follow the customsof my people. "

Saint Hubert clicked his tongue impatiently. "Your people!--whichpeople?" he asked in a low voice. 

The Sheik sprang to his feet with flashing eyes, his hand droppingheavily on Saint Hubert's shoulder. 

"Stop, Raoul! Not even from you----!" he cried passionately, and thenbroke off abruptly, and the anger died out of his face. He sat downagain quietly, with a little amused laugh. "Why this sudden access ofmorality, _mon ami?_ You know me and the life I lead. You haveseen women in my camp before now. "

Saint Hubert dismissed the remark with a contemptuous wave of the hand. "There is to comparison. You know it as well as I, " he said succinctly. He moved over slowly to the camp table, where his toilet things hadbeen laid out, and began removing the links from the cuffs of hisshirt. "She is English, surely that is reason enough, " he flung overhis shoulder. 

"You ask me, _me_ to spare a woman because she is English? My goodRaoul, you amuse me, " replied the Sheik, with an ugly sneer. 

"Where did you see her?" asked Saint Hubert curiously. 

"In the streets of Biskra, for five minutes, four months ago. "

The Vicomte turned quickly. "You love her?" he shot out, with all thesuddenness of an American third degree. 

The Sheik exhaled a long, thin cloud of blue smoke and watched iteddying towards the top of the tent. "Have I ever loved a woman? Andthis woman is English, " he said in a voice as hard as steel. 

"If you loved her you would not care for her nationality. "

The Sheik spat the end of his cigarette on to the floor contemptuously. "By Allah! Her cursed race sticks in my throat. But for that----" Heshrugged his shoulders impatiently and got up from the bed on which hewas sitting. 

"Let her go then, " said Saint Hubert quickly. "I can take her back toBiskra. "

The Sheik turned to him slowly, a sudden flame of fierce jealousyleaping into his eyes. "Has she bewitched you, too? Do you want her foryourself, Raoul?" His voice was as low as ever, but there was adangerous ring in it. 

Saint Hubert flung his hands out in a gesture of despair. "Ahmed! Areyou mad? Are you going to quarrel with me after all these years on sucha pretext? _Bon Dieu!_ What do you take me for? There has been toomuch in our lives together ever to let a woman come between us. What isa woman or any one to me where you are concerned? It is for quite adifferent reason that I ask you, that I beg you to let this girl go. "

"Forgive me, Raoul. You know my devilish temper, " muttered the Sheik, and for a moment his hand rested on Saint Hubert's arm. 

"You have not answered me, Ahmed. "

The Sheik turned away. "She is content, " he said evasively. 

"She has courage, " amended the Vicomte significantly. 

"As you say, she has courage, " agreed the Sheik, without a particle ofexpression in his voice. 

_"Bon sang----"_ quoted Saint Hubert softly. 

The Sheik swung round quickly. "How do you know she has good blood inher?"

"It is very evident, " replied Saint Hubert drily. 

"That is not what you mean. What do you know?"

The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders, and, going to his suit-case, tookfrom it an English illustrated paper, and opening it at the centralpage handed it to the Sheik silently. 

Ahmed Ben Hassan moved closer to the hanging lamp so that the lightfell directly on the paper in his hands. There were two largefull-length photographs of Diana, one in evening dress and the other asthe Vicomte had first seen her, in riding breeches and short jacket, her hat and whip lying at her feet, and the bridle of the horse thatwas standing beside her over her arm. 

Under the photographs was written: "Miss Diana Mayo, whose protractedjourney in the desert is causing anxiety to a large circle of friends. Miss Mayo left Biskra under the guidance of a reputable caravan-leaderfour months ago, with the intention of journeying for four weeks in thedesert and returning to Oran. Since the first camp nothing has beenheard of Miss Mayo or her caravan. Further anxiety is occasioned by thefact that considerable unrest is reported amongst the tribes in thelocality towards which Miss Mayo was travelling. Her brother, SirAubrey Mayo, who is detained in America as the result of an accident, is in constant cable communication with the French authorities. MissMayo is a well-known sports-woman and has travelled widely. "

For a long time the Sheik studied the photographs silently, then withslow deliberation he tore the page out of the paper and rolled it up. "With your permission, " he said coolly, and held it over the flame ofthe little lamp by the bedside. He held it until the burning papercharred to nothing in his hand and then flicked the ashes from his longfingers. "Henri has seen this?"

"Unquestionably. Henri reads all my papers, " replied Saint Hubert, witha touch of impatience. 

"Then Henri can hold his tongue, " said the Sheik nonchalantly, searching in the folds of his waist-cloth for his case and lightinganother cigarette with elaborate carelessness. 

"What are you going to do?" asked Saint Hubert pointedly. 

"I? Nothing! The French authorities have too many affairs on hand andtoo high an appreciation of Ahmed Ben Hassan's horses to prosecuteinquiries in my direction. Besides, they are not responsible. Mademoiselle Mayo was warned of the risks she ran before she leftBiskra. She chose to take the risks, _et voila!"_

"Will nothing make you change your mind?"

"I am not given to changing my mind. You know that. And, besides, whyshould I? As I told you before, she is content. "

Saint Hubert looked him full in the face. "Content! Cowed is the betterword, Ahmed. "

The Sheik laughed softly. "You flatter me, Raoul. Do not let us speakany more about it. It is an unfortunate contretemps, and I regret thatit distresses you, " he said lightly; then with a sudden change ofmanner he laid his hands on the Vicomte's shoulders. "But this can makeno difference to our friendship, _mon ami;_ that is too big athing to break down over a difference of opinion. You are a Frenchnobleman, and I----!" He gave a little bitter laugh. "I am anuncivilised Arab. We cannot see things in the same way. "

"You could, but you will not, Ahmed, " replied the Vicomte, with anaccent of regret. "It is not worthy of you. " He paused and then lookedup again with a little crooked smile and a shrug of defeat. "Nothingcan ever make any difference with us, Ahmed. I can disagree with you, but I can't wipe out the recollection of the last twenty years. "

A few minutes later the Sheik left him and went out into the night. Hetraversed the short distance between the tents slowly, stopping tospeak to a sentry, and then pausing outside his own tent to look up atthe stars. The Persian hound that always slept across the entranceuncurled himself and got up, thrusting a wet nose into his hand. TheSheik fondled the huge creature absently, stroking the dog's shaggyhead mechanically, hardly conscious of what he was doing. A greatrestlessness that was utterly foreign to his nature had takenpossession of him. He had been aware of it growing within him for sometime, becoming stronger daily, and now the coming of Raoul de SaintHubert seemed to have put the crowning touch to a state of mind that hewas unable to understand. He had never been given to thinking ofhimself, or criticising or analysing his passing whims and fancies. Allhis life he had taken what he wanted; nothing on which he had ever laideyes of desire had been denied him. His wealth had brought himeverything he had ever wished. His passionate temper had beencharacteristic even when he was a child, but these strange fits ofunreasonable irritability were new, and he searched for a cause vainly. His keen eyes looked through the darkness towards the south. Was it thenearness of his hereditary enemy, who had presumed to come closer thanhe had ever done before to the border of the country that Ahmed BenHassan regarded as his own, that was causing this great unrest? Helaughed contemptuously. Nothing would give him greater pleasure thancoming into actual collision with the man whom he had been trained fromboyhood to hate. As long as Ibraheim Omair remained within his ownterritory Ahmed Ben Hassan held his hand and kept in check his fiercefollowers, whose eyes were turned longingly towards the debatable land, but once let the robber Sheik step an inch over the border, and it waswar, and war until one or both of the chiefs were dead. And if he diedwho had no son to succeed him; the huge tribe would split up innumerous little families for want of a leader to keep them together, and it would be left to the French Government to take over, if theycould, the vast district that he had governed despotically. And at thethought he laughed again. No, it was not Ibraheim Omair who wastroubling him. He pushed the hound aside and went into the tent. Thedivan where Diana had been sitting was strewn with magazines andpapers, the imprint of her slender body still showed in the soft, heaped-up cushions, and a tiny, lace-edged handkerchief peeped outunder one of them. He picked it up and looked at it curiously, and hisforehead contracted slowly in the heavy black scowl. He turned hisburning eyes toward the curtains that divided the rooms. Saint Hubert'swords rang in his ears. "English!" he muttered with a terrible oath. "And I have made her suffer as I swore any of that damned race shouldif they fell into my hands. Merciful Allah! Why does it give me solittle pleasure?"

CHAPTER VII

Diana came into the living-room one morning about a week after thearrival of the Vicomte de Saint Hubert. She had expected to find theroom empty, for the Sheik had risen at dawn and ridden away on one ofthe distant expeditions that had become so frequent, and she thoughthis friend had accompanied him, but as she parted the curtains betweenthe two rooms she saw the Frenchman sitting at the little writing-tablesurrounded by papers and writing quickly, loose sheets of manuscriptlittering the floor around him. It was the first time that they hadchanced to be alone, and she hesitated with a sudden shyness. But SaintHubert had heard the rustle of the curtain, and he sprang to his feetwith the courteous bow that proclaimed his nationality. 

"Your pardon, Madame. Do I disturb you? Tell me if I am in the way. Iam afraid I have been very untidy, " he added, laughing apologetically, and looking at the heap of closely-written sheets strewing the rug. 

Diana came forward slowly, a faint colour rising in her face. "Ithought you had gone with Monseigneur. "

"I had some work to do--some notes that I wanted to transcribe before Iforgot myself what they meant; I write vilely. I have had a hard week, too, so I begged a day off. I may stay? You are sure I do not disturbyou?"

His sympathetic eyes and the deference in his voice brought anunexpected lump into her throat. She signed to him to resume his workand passed out under the awning. Behind the tent the usual camp hubbubfilled the air. A knot of Arabs at a little distance were watching oneof the rough-riders schooling a young horse, noisily critical andoffering advice freely, undeterred by the indifference with which itwas received. Others lounged past engaged on the various dutiesconnected with the camp, with the Eastern disregard for time thatrelegated till to-morrow everything that could possibly be neglectedto-day. Near her one of the older men, more rigid in his observancesthan the generality of Ahmed Ben Hassan's followers, was placidlyabsorbed in his devotions, prostrating himself and fulfilling hisritual with the sublime lack of self-consciousness of the Mohammedandevotee. 

Outside his own tent the valet and Henri were sitting in the sun, Gaston on an upturned bucket, cleaning a rifle, and his brotherstretched full length on the ground, idly flapping at the flies withthe duster with which he had been polishing the Vicomte's riding-boots. Both men were talking rapidly with frequent little bursts of gaylaughter. The Persian hound was lying at their feet. He raised his headas Diana appeared, and, rising, went to her slowly, rearing up againsther with a paw on each shoulder, making clumsy efforts to lick herface, and she pushed him down with difficulty, stooping to kiss hisshaggy head. 

She looked away across the desert beyond the last palms of the oasis. Ahaze hung round about, shimmering in the heat and blurring the outlineof the distant hills. A tiny breeze brought the acrid smell of camelscloser to her, and the creaking whine of the tackling over the wellsounded not very far away. Diana gave a little sigh. It had all grownso familiar. She seemed to have lived no other life beside this nomadexistence. The years that had gone before faded into a kind of dimremembrance, the time when she had travelled ceaselessly round theworld with her brother seemed very remote. She had existed then, filling her life with sport, unconscious of the something that waslacking in her nature, and now she was alive at last, and the heartwhose existence she had doubted was burning and throbbing with apassion that was consuming her. Her eyes swept lingeringly around thecamp with a very tender light in them. Everything she saw was connectedwith and bound up in the man who was lord of it all. She was very proudof him, proud of his magnificent physical abilities, proud of his holdover his wild turbulent followers, proud with the pride of primevalwoman in the dominant man ruling his fellow-men by force and fear. 

The old Arab had finished his prayers and rose leisurely from hisknees, salaaming with a broad smile. All the tribesmen smiled on her, and would go out of their way to win a nod of recognition from her. Shefaltered a few words in stumbling Arabic in reply to his long, floweryspeech, and with a little laugh beat a hasty retreat into the tent. 

She paused beside the Vicomte. "Is it another novel?" she asked shyly, indicating the steadily increasing pile of manuscript. 

He turned on his chair, resting his arms on the rail, twirling afountain pen between his fingers, and smiled at her as she curled up onthe divan with Kopec, who had followed her into the tent. "No, Madame, Something more serious this time. It is a history of this very curioustribe of Ahmed's. They are different in so many ways from ordinaryArabs. They have been a race apart for generations. They have beliefsand customs peculiarly their own. You may, for instance, have noticedthe singular absence among them of the strict religious practices thathold among other Mohammedans. Ahmed Ben Hassan's tribe worship firstand foremost their Sheik, then the famous horses for which they arerenowned, and then and then only--Allah. "

"Is Monseigneur a Mohammedan?"

Saint Hubert shrugged. "He believes in a God, " he said evasively, turning back to his writing. 

Diana studied him curiously as he bent over his work. She smiledwhen she thought of the mental picture she had drawn of Saint Hubertbefore he came, and contrasted it with the real man under her eyes. During the week that he had been in the camp he had forced herliking and compelled her confidence by the sympathetic charm of hismanner. He had carried off a difficult position with a delicacy and_savoir-faire_ that had earned him her gratitude. He had saved hera hundred humiliations with a tact that had been as spontaneous as ithad been unobtrusive. And they had the bond between them of the commonlove they had for this strange leader of a strange tribe. What had beenthe origin of the friendship between these utterly dissimilar men--afriendship that seemed to go back to the days of their boyhood? Thequestion intrigued her and she pondered over it, lying quietly on thedivan, smoothing the hound's huge head resting on her knee. 

The Vicomte wrote rapidly for some time and then flung down his penwith an exclamation of relief, gathered up the loose sheets from thefloor and, stacking them in an orderly heap on the table, swung roundon his chair again. He looked at the girl's slender little figure lyingwith the unconsciously graceful attitude of a child against theheaped-up cushions, her face bent over the dog's rough, grey head, andhe felt an unwonted emotion stirring in him. The quick sympathy thatshe had aroused from the first moment of seeing her had given place toa deeper feeling that moved him profoundly, and with it a chivalrousdesire to protect, a longing to stand between her and the irremediabledisaster that loomed inevitably ahead of her. 

She felt his concentrated gaze and looked up. "You have done yourwork?"

"All I can do at the moment. Henri must unravel the rest; he has apassion for hieroglyphics. He is an invaluable person; I could neverget on without him. He bullied me when we were boys together--at leastthat is what I called it. He called it 'amusing Monsieur le Vicomte, 'and for the last fifteen years he has tyrannised over mewholeheartedly. " He laughed and snapped his fingers at Kopec, whowhined and rolled his eyes in his direction, but did not lift his headfrom Diana's knee. 

There was a pause, and Diana continued fondling the hound absently. "Ihave read your books, Monsieur--all that Monseigneur has here, " shesaid at last, looking up gravely. 

He gave a little bow with a few murmured words that she did not catch. 

"Your novel interested me, " she went on, still stroking the hound, asif the nearness of the great beast helped her. 

"As a rule novels bore me, the subjects they deal with have been of nointerest to me, but this one gripped me. It is unusual, it iswonderful, but--is it real?" She had spoken dispassionately with theboyish candour that was characteristic, not complimenting an author ona masterpiece, but stating a fact simply, as it appeared to her. 

Saint Hubert leaned forward over the back of his chair. "In whatway--real?" he asked. 

She looked at him squarely. "Do you think there really exists such aman as you have drawn--a man who could be as tender, as unselfish, asfaithful as your hero?"

Saint Hubert looked away, and, picking up his pen, stabbed idly at theblotting-pad, drawing meaningless circles and dots, with a slow shrug. The scorn in her voice and the sudden pain in her eyes hurt him. 

"Do you know such a man, Monsieur, or is he wholly a creature of yourimagination?" she persisted. 

He completed a complicated diagram on the sheet of blotting-paperbefore answering. "I do know a man who, given certain circumstances, has the ability to develop into such a character, " he said eventuallyin a low voice. 

She laughed bitterly. "Then you are luckier than I. I am not very old, but during the last five years I have met many men of manynationalities, and I have never known one who in any degree resemblesthe _preux chevalier_ of your book. The men who have mostintimately touched my life have not known the meaning of the wordtenderness, and have never had a thought for any one beyond themselves. You have been more fortunate in your acquaintances, Monsieur. "

A dull red crept into the Vicomte's face, and he continued looking atthe pen in his fingers. "Beautiful women, Madame, " he said slowly, "unfortunately provoke in some men all that is basest and vilest intheir natures. No man knows to what depths of infamy he may stoop underthe stress of a sudden temptation. "

"And the woman pays, " cried Diana vehemently. "Pays for the beauty Godcurses her with--the beauty she may hate herself; pays until the beautyfades. How much----" She pulled herself up short, biting her lips. Moved by the sense of the sympathy that had unconsciously beeninfluencing her during the past week and which had shaken theself-suppression that she had imposed upon herself, her tongue had runaway with her. She was afraid of the confidence that his manner wasalmost demanding of her. Her pride restrained her from the compassionthat her loneliness had nearly yielded to. 

"Excuse me, " she said coldly, "my ideas cannot possibly interest you. "

"On the contrary, you interest me profoundly, " he corrected quickly. 

She noticed the slight difference in his words and laughed morebitterly than before. "As what?--a subject for vivisection? Get on youroperating coat and bring your instruments without delay. The victim isall ready for you. It will be 'copy' for your next book!"

"Madame!"

He had sprung to his feet, and she looked up at him miserably, her handheld out in swift contrition. "Oh, forgive me! I shouldn't have saidthat. You haven't deserved it. You have been--kind. I am grateful. Forgive me and my rudeness. It must be the heat, it makes one veryirritable, don't you think?"

He ignored her pitiful little subterfuge and raised her outstretched, quivering fingers to his lips. "If you will honour me with yourfriendship, " he said, with a touch of the old-world chivalry that wasoften noticeable in him, "my life is at your service. "

But as he spoke his voice changed. The touch of her cold fingers sent arush of feeling through him that for an instant overpowered him. 

She let her hand lie in his, and for a few moments she avoided his eyesand looked down at the rough head in her lap. Then she met his gazefrankly. "Your offer is too rare a thing to put on one side. If youwill be my friend, as you are Monseigneur's friend----" she faltered, turning her head away, and her fingers lying in his trembled slightly. 

He started and crushed the hand he was holding unknowingly, as thethought was forced on him. Monseigneur's friend! He realized that inthe last few moments he had forgotten the Sheik, had forgotteneverything, swept off his feet by an intense emotion that staggered himwith its unexpectedness, except the loveliness and helplessness of thegirl beside him. His head was reeling; his calmness, his loyalty, hisearlier feelings of dispassionate pity had given way to an extremeagitation that was rushing him headlong and threatening to overwhelmhim. His heart beat furiously and he clenched his teeth, fighting toregain his usual _sang-froid_. The emotional temperament thatDiana had divined from his novel had sprung uppermost with a bound, overthrowing the rigid repression of years. The blood beat in his earsas he strove to master himself, to crush the madness that had come uponhim. 

He had closed his eyes with the shock of self-revelation, he openedthem now and looked down at her hesitatingly, almost fearfully, clasping her hand closer in his and leaning nearer to her, drawnirresistibly by the intoxication of her nearness. He saw her through amist that cleared gradually, saw that she was ignorant of the emotionshe had awakened in him, and, conscious only of his sympathy, had lefther hand in his as she would have left it in her brother's. She wasbent low over the hound, her face almost touching his big head, and asSaint Hubert looked a glistening tear dropped on Kopec's rough, greyneck. She had forgotten him, forgotten even that he was standing besideher, in the one predominant thought that filled her mind. With animmense effort he got command of himself. Somehow he must conquer thissudden insanity. The loyalty that had hung trembling in the balancereasserted itself and a self-disgust seized him. He had been within anace of betraying the man who had been for twenty years nearer to himthan a brother. She belonged to his friend, and now he had not even theright to question the ethics of the Sheik's possession of her. The calmthat he had lost came back to him. The wound would heal though it mightalways throb, but he was strong enough to hide its existence even fromthe jealous eyes that had watched him ceaselessly since his outburst onthe night of his arrival. He had been conscious of them daily. Eventhis morning the Sheik had made every effort short of a direct commandto induce him to go with him on the expedition that had taken him awayso early. Sure of himself now, he lifted her fingers to his lips againreverently with a kind of renunciation in his kiss, and laid her handdown gently. He turned away with a smothered sigh and a little pang ather complete absorption, and, as he did so, Henri came in quickly. 

"Monsieur le Vicomte! Will you come? There has been an accident. "

With a cry that Saint Hubert never forgot Diana leaped to her feet, herface colourless, and her lips framed the word "Ahmed, " though no soundcame from them. She was shaking all over, and the Vicomte put his armround her instinctively. She clung to him, and he knew with a bittercertainty that the support of a table or a chair would have meant noless to her. 

"What is it, Henri?" he said sharply, with a slight movement thatinterposed himself between Diana and his servant. 

"One of the men, Monsieur le Vicomte. His gun burst, and his hand isshattered. "

Saint Hubert nodded curtly towards the door and turned his attention toDiana. She sank down on the divan and, gathering the hound's head inher arm, buried her face in his neck. "Forgive me, " she murmured, hervoice muffled in the rough, grey hair. "It is stupid of me, but he isriding that brute Shaitan to-day. I am always nervous. Please go. Iwill come in a minute. "

He went without a word. "I am always nervous. " The tales he had heardof Diana Mayo as he passed through Biskra did not include nerves. Hisface was set as he ran hurriedly across the camp. 

Diana sat quite still after he had gone until the nervous shudderingceased, until Kopec twisted his head free of her arms and licked herface with an uneasy whine. She brushed her hand across her eyes with agasp of relief, and went out into the bright sunlight with the hound ather heels. 

The noisy clamour of excited voices guided her to the scene of theaccident, and the surrounding crowd opened to let her pass through. Thewounded man was sitting holding up his hand stoically for SaintHubert's ministrations with a look of mild interest on his face. Inresponse to Diana's smile and cheery word he grinned sheepishly with aroll of his fine eyes. Saint Hubert looked up quickly. "It is not apleasant sight, " he said doubtfully. 

"I don't mind. Let me hold that, " she said quietly, rolling up hersleeves and taking a crimson-spattered basin from Henri. Saint Hubertflashed another look at her, marvelling at her steady voice and evencolour when he thought of the white-faced girl who had clung tremblingto him ten minutes earlier. Outside of Ahmed Ben Hassan she stillretained the fearless courage that she had always had; it was only whenanything touched him nearly that the new Diana, with the coward anxietyof love, rose paramount. 

She watched the Vicomte's skilful treatment of the maimed hand withinterest. There was a precision in his movement and a deft touch thatindicated both knowledge and practise. "You are a doctor?"

"Yes, " he said, without looking up from his work, "I studied when I wasa young man and passed all the necessary examinations. It isindispensable when one travels as I do. I have found it invaluable. "

He took up some dressing that Henri held ready for him, and Dianahanded the now unwanted bowl to Gaston. She looked again at the Arab, whose impassive face showed no sign of any feeling. "Does he feel itvery much, do you think?" she asked the valet. 

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Less than I should, Madame. What is really troubling him is the thought of what Monseigneur willsay when he hears that Selim was fool enough to buy a worthless gunfrom one of the servants of the Dutchman who passed here last week, "and he added a few teasing words in Arabic which made Selim look upwith a grimace. 

Saint Hubert finished adjusting the bandages and stood up, wiping theperspiration from his forehead. 

"Will he do all right now?" asked Diana anxiously. 

"I think so. The thumb is gone, as you saw, but I think I can save therest of the hand. I will watch him carefully, but these men of Ahmed'sare in such excellent condition that I do not think there will be anytrouble. "

"I am going to ride, " said Diana, turning away. "It is rather late, butthere is just time. Will you come?"

It was a temptation and he hesitated, gathering together theinstruments he had been using, but prudence prevailed. 

"I should like to, but I ought to keep an eye on Selim, " he saidquietly, snatching at the plausible excuse that offered. He found herlater before the big tent as she was ready to start, and waited whileshe mounted. 

"If I am late don't wait for me. Tell Henri to give you your lunch, "she called out between The Dancer's idiotic prancings. 

He watched her ride away, with Gaston a few paces behind and followedby the escort of six men that the Sheik had lately insisted upon. Thecontinual presence of these six men riding at her heels irked herconsiderably. The wild, free gallops that she had loved became quitedifferent with the thought of the armed guard behind her. They seemedto hamper her and put a period to her enjoyment. The loneliness of herrides had been to her half their charm; she had grown accustomed to andoblivious of Gaston, but she was acutely conscious of the six pairs ofeyes watching her every movement. She did not see the necessity forthem. She had never been aware of anything any time when she was ridingthat seemed to justify the Sheik's order. The oasis was not on acaravan route, and if she ever saw Arabs at any distance from the campthey always proved to be Ahmed Ben Hassan's own men. She had thought ofremonstrating with him, but her courage had failed her. His mood, sincethe coming of Saint Hubert, had been of the coldest--almost repellant. The weeks of happiness that had gone before had developed the intimacybetween them almost into a feeling of camaraderie. He had been morehumane, more Western, more considerate than he had ever been, and thefear that she had of him had lain quiescent. She could have asked himthen. But since the morning of Raoul's arrival, when the unexpectedfervour of his embrace had given new birth to the hope that had almostdied within her, he had changed completely into a cold reserve thatchilled her. His caresses had been careless and infrequent, and hisindifference so great that she had wondered miserably if the flame ofhis passion for her was burning out and if this was the end. And yetthroughout his indifference she had been conscious, like Saint Hubert, of the surveillance of constant jealous eyes that watched them bothwith a fierce scrutiny that was felt rather than actually seen. But thespark of hope that the knowledge of this jealousy still fanned was notgreat enough to overcome the barrier that his new mood had raisedbetween them. She dared ask no favour of him now. Her heart tightenedat the thought of his indifference. It hurt so. This morning he hadleft her without a word when he had gone out into the early dawn, andshe was hungry for the kisses he withheld. She was used to his taciturnfits, but her starved heart ached perpetually for tangible recognition. Love, the capacity for which she had so long denied, had become a forcethat, predominating everything, held her irresistibly. The accumulatedaffection that, for want of an outlet, had been stemmed within her, hadburst all restraint, and the love that she gave to the man to whom shehad surrendered her proud heart was immeasurable--a love of infinitetenderness and complete unselfishness, a love that had made herstrangely humble. She had yielded up everything to him, he dominatedher wholly. Her imperious will had bent before his greaterdetermination, and his mastery over her had provoked a love that cravedfor recompense. She only lived for him and for the hope of his love, engulfed in the passion that enthralled her. Her surrender had been nocommon one. The feminine weakness that she had despised and foughtagainst had triumphed over her unexpectedly without humiliatingthoroughness. Sex had supervened to overthrow all her preconceivednotions. The womanly instincts that under Aubrey's training had beensuppressed and undeveloped had, in contact with the Sheik's vividmasculinity and compelling personality, risen to the surface withstartling completeness. 

To-day she was almost desperate. His callousness of the morning hadwounded her deeply, and a wave of rebellion welled up in her. She wouldnot be thrown aside without making any effort to fight for his love. She would use every art that her beauty and her woman's instinct gaveher. Her cheek burned as she thought of the role she was settingherself. She would be no better than "those others" whose remembrancestill made her shiver. But she crushed down the repugnant feelingresolutely, flinging up her head with the old haughty gesture anddrawing herself straighter in the saddle with compressed lips. She hadendured so much already that she could even bear this further outrageto her feelings. At no matter what cost she must make him care for her. Though she loathed the means she would make him love her. But even asshe planned the doubt of her ability to succeed crept into her mind, torturing her with insidious recollections. 

Ahmed Ben Hassan was no ordinary man to succumb to the fascinations ofa woman. She had experienced his obstinacy, and knew the inflexibilityof his nature. His determination was a rock against which she had beenbroken too many times not to know its strength. For a moment shedespaired, then courage came to her again, thrusting away the doubtsthat crowded in upon her and leaving the hope that still lingered inher heart. A faint tremulous smile curved her lips, and she looked up, forcing her thoughts back to the present with an effort. 

At the beginning of the ride they had passed several vedettes sittingmotionless on their impatient horses. The men had swung their rifleshigh in the air in salute as she passed, and once or twice Gaston hadshouted a question as he galloped after her. But for the last hour theyhad seen no one. The desert was undulating here, rising and falling inshort, sharp declivities that made a wide outlook impossible. 

Gaston spurred to Diana's side. "Will Madame please to turn?" he saidrespectfully. "It is late, and it is not safe riding amongst theseslopes. One cannot see what is coming and I am afraid. "

"Afraid, Gaston?" she rallied laughingly. 

"For you, Madame, " he answered gravely. 

She reined in The Dancer as she spoke; but it was too late. Even as sheturned her horse's head innumerable Arabs seemed to spring up on allsides of them. Before she realised what was happening her escortflashed past and wheeled in behind her, shooting steadily at the hordeof men who poured in upon them, and, with a groan, Gaston seized herbridle and urged the horses back in the direction from which they hadcome. The noise was deafening, the raucous shouting of the Arabs andthe continuous sharp crack of the rifles. Bullets began to whizz pasther. 

Gaston tucked his reins under his knee, and with one hand grasping TheDancer's bridle and his revolver in the other, rode looking back overhis shoulder. Diana, too, glanced behind her, and mechanically herfingers closed over the shining little weapon that the Sheik had givenher the previous week. She saw with a sudden sickening the six men whohad formed her escort beaten back by the superior numbers that enclosedthem on every side. Already two were down and the rest were on foot, and, as she watched, they were swallowed up in the mass of men thatpoured over them, and, at the same time, a party of about twentyhorsemen detached themselves from the main body and galloped towardsher and Gaston. 

She seized his arm. "Can't we do something? Can't we help them? Wecan't leave them like that, " she gasped, wrenching the revolver fromthe holster at her waist. 

"No, no, Madame, it is impossible. It is a hundred to six. You mustthink of yourself. Go on, Madame. For God's sake, ride on. We may havea chance. " He loosed her bridle and dropped behind her, interposinghimself between her and the pursuing Arabs. A fierce yelling and a hailof bullets that went wide made Diana turn her head as she crouched lowin the saddle. She realised the meaning of Gaston's tactics and checkedher horse deliberately. 

"I won't go first. You must ride with me, " she cried, wincing as abullet went close by her. 

"_Mon Dieu!_ What are you stopping for? Do you think I can faceMonseigneur if anything happens to you, Madame?" replied Gastonfiercely. "Do as I tell you. Go on!" Deference was gone in the fearthat roughened his voice. 

He looked back and his face grew grey. For himself he had no fear, butfor the girl beside him he dared not even think. They were IbraheimOmair's men who had trapped them, and he cursed his folly in allowingDiana to come so far. Yet it had seemed safe enough. The scout'sreports had lately proved that the robber Sheik had up to now respectedthe boundary line between the two territories. This must be a suddententative raid which had met with unlooked-for success. The bait wouldbe too tempting to allow of any slackening on the part of the raiders. The white woman, who was Ahmed Ben Hassan's latest toy, and hisservant, whom he was known to value so highly, would be a prize thatwould not be lightly let go. For himself it would be probably torture, certainly death, and for her----! He set his teeth as he looked at herand the perspiration poured down his face. He would kill her himselfbefore it came to that. And as he looked she turned her head, and methis agonised eyes for a moment, smiling bravely. He had refrained uptill now from shooting, trying to reserve his ammunition for a lastresource, but he saw that he must delay no longer. He fired slowly andsteadily, picking his men with careful precision. It was a forlornhope, but by checking the leaders even for a few moments he might gaintime. The accuracy of his aim, that every time proved effectual, mightkeep back the onrush until they got clear of the undulating country, until they got out into the open where the sounds of the firing mightreach some of the outpost sentinels, until they got too near to theSheik's camp for pursuit to be possible. The bullets patteredcontinuously round them, but the men who fired them were not Ahmed BenHassan's carefully trained marksmen. But still Gaston knew that theirposition was almost hopeless. Any moment a bullet might reach one ofthem. 

Their pursuers, too, seemed to guess his thoughts and opened out intoan irregular, extended line, swerving and manoeuvring continually, making accurate shooting impossible, while they urged their horses to aterrific pace trying to outflank them. Diana was shooting now. Thethought of her escort's annihilation and her own and Gaston's peril hadovercome the reluctance she had had at first, and she had even a momentto wonder at her coolness. She did not feel afraid, the death ofAhmed's men had made her angry, a fierce revengeful anger that made hersee red and filled her with a desire to retaliate in kind. She firedrapidly, emptying her revolver, and she had just reloaded with steadyfingers when The Dancer stumbled, recovering himself for a few steps, and then lurched slowly over on to his side, blood pouring from hismouth. Diana sprang clear, and in a moment Gaston was beside her, thrusting her behind him, shielding her with his own body, and firingsteadily at the oncoming Arabs. 

The same feeling of unreality that she had experienced once before thefirst day in the Sheik's camp came over her. The intense stillness--forthe Arabs had ceased shouting--the hot, dry sand with the shimmeringheat haze rising like mist from its whispering surface, the cloudlessdeep blue sky overhead, the band of menacing horsemen circling nearerand nearer, the dead Dancer, with Gaston's horse standing quietlybeside his prostrate companion, and lastly, the man beside her, braveand devoted to the end, all seemed fantastic and unreal. She viewed itdispassionately, as if she were a spectator rather than a participantin the scene. But for a moment only, then the reality of the situationcame clearly to her again. Any minute might mean death for one or otheror both of them, and with an instinctive movement she pressed closer toGaston. They were both silent, there seemed nothing to say. The valet'sleft hand clenched over hers at the involuntary appeal forcompanionship that she made, and she felt it contract as a bulletgashed his forehead, blinding him for a moment with the blood thatdripped into his eyes. He let go her hand to brush his arm across hisface, and as he did so the Arabs with suddenly renewed shouting boredown upon them. 

Gaston turned sharply and Diana read his purpose in the horror in hiseyes. She held up her head with a little nod and the same brave smileon her white lips. "Please, " she whispered, "quickly!" A spasm crossedhis face, "Turn your head, " he muttered desperately. "I cannot do it ifyou----"

There was a rattle of shots, and with a gasp he crumpled up againsther. For a moment it was pandemonium. Standing over Gaston's body shefired her last shot and flung the empty revolver in the face of a manwho sprang forward to seize her. She turned with a desperate hope ofreaching Gaston's horse, but she was hemmed in, and for a second shestood at bay, hands clenched and teeth set, braving the wild faces thatsurrounded her, and were closing in upon her, with flashing defianteyes. Then she was conscious of a crashing blow on her head, the groundheaved up under her feet, everything went black before her eyes, andwithout a sound she fell senseless. 

Late in the afternoon Saint Hubert was still writing in the big tent. Henri had deciphered the notes that had baffled his master in themorning, and the Vicomte had taken advantage of the solitude to do somelong-neglected work. He had forgotten the time, forgotten to besurprised at Diana's continued absence, immersed in the interestingsubject he was dealing with, and not realising the significance of herdelayed return. Ahmed had spoken of the proximity of his hereditaryenemy, but Saint Hubert had not grasped how near the robber Sheik hadventured. 

He was too engrossed to notice the usual noise in the camp thatheralded the Sheik's arrival, and he looked up with a start when AhmedBen Hassan swept in. The Sheik's dark eyes glanced sombrely around thetent and without a word he went through into the inner room. In amoment he came hack. 

"Where is Diane?"

Saint Hubert got up, puzzled at his tone. He looked at his watch. "Shewent for a ride this morning. _Dieu!_ I had no idea it was solate. "

"This morning!--and not back yet?" repeated the Sheik slowly. "Whattime this morning?"

"About ten, I think, " replied Saint Hubert uneasily. "I'm not sure. Ididn't look. There was an accident, and she delayed to watch me tie upone of your foolish children who had been playing with a worthlessgun. "

The Sheik moved over to the doorway. "She had an escort?" he askedcurtly. 

"Yes. "

Ahmed Ben Hassan's face hardened and the heavy scowl contracted hisblack brows. Had she all these weeks been tricking him--feigning acontent she did not feel, lulling his suspicions to enable her to seizeanother opportunity to attempt to get away? For a moment his face grewdark, then he put the thought from him. He trusted her. Only a weekbefore she had given him her word, and he knew she would not lie tohim. And, besides, the thing was impossible. Gaston would never becaught napping a second time, and there were also the six men whoformed her guard. She would never be able to escape the vigilance ofseven men. But it was the trust he had in her that weighed most withhim. He had never trusted a woman before, but this woman had beendifferent. The others who had come and gone so lightly had not evenleft a recollection behind them; they had faded into one concrete causeof utter boredom. There had never been any reason to trust or mistrustthem, or to care if they came or went. Satiety had come with possessionand with it indifference. But the emotion that this girl's uncommonbeauty and slender boyishness had aroused in him had not diminishedduring the months she had been living in his camp. Her varying moods, her antagonism, her fits of furious rage, and, lastly, her unexpectedsurrender, had kept his interest alive. He had grown accustomed to her. He had come to looking forward with a vague, indefinite pleasure, onreturning from his long expeditions, to seeing the dainty little figurecurled up among the cushions on the big divan. Her presence seemed topervade the atmosphere of the whole tent, changing it utterly. She hadbecome necessary to him as he had never believed it possible that awoman could be. And with the change that she had made in his camp therehad come a change in himself also. 

For the first time a shadow had risen between him and the man whosefriendship had meant everything to him since, as a lad of fifteen, hehad come under the influence of the young Frenchman, who was threeyears his senior. He realized that since the night of Raoul's arrivalhe had been seething with insensate jealousy. He had relied on theWestern tendencies that prompted him to carry off the difficultsituation, but his ingrained Orientalism had broken through thesuperficial veneer. He was jealous of every word, every look she gaveSaint Hubert. Pride had prevented an open rupture with the Vicomte thismorning, but he had ridden away filled with a cold rage that hadaugmented every hour and finally driven him back earlier than he hadintended, riding with a recklessness that had been apparent even to hismen. The sight of Raoul sitting alone absorbed in his work had in partallayed his suspicions, and he had gone on into the other room with afeeling of new expectancy that had changed to a sudden chill at itsemptiness. The vacant room had brought home to him abruptly all thatthe girl meant to him. A latent anxiety crept into his eyes. 

He went out under the awning and clapped his hands, and a servantanswered the summons almost immediately. He gave an order and waited, his hands thrust into the folds of his waist-cloth and his teethclenched on a cigarette that he had forgotten to light. 

Saint Hubert joined him. "What do you think?" he asked, with a touch ofdiffidence. 

"I don't know what to think, " replied the Sheik shortly. 

"But is there any real danger?"

"There is always danger in the desert, particularly when that devil isabroad. " He motioned to the south with an impatient jerk of his head. 

Saint Hubert's breath whistled sharply through his teeth. "My God! Youdon't imagine----"

But the Sheik only shrugged his shoulders and turned to Yusef, who hadcome up with half-a-dozen men. There was a rapid interchange ofquestions and answers, some brief orders, and the men hurried away indifferent directions, while Ahmed Ben Hassan turned again to SaintHubert. 

"They were seen by three of the southern patrols this morning, but ofcourse it was nobody's business to find out if they had come back ornot. I will start at once--in about ten minutes. You will come with me?Good! I have sent for reinforcements, who are to follow us if we arenot back in twelve hours. " His voice was expressionless, and only Raoulde Saint Hubert, who had known him since boyhood, could and didappreciate the significance of a fleeting look that crossed his face ashe went back into the tent. 

For a moment the Vicomte hesitated, but he knew that not even he waswanted inside that empty tent, and a half-bitter, half-sad feeling thatthe perfect friendship and confidence that had existed between them fortwenty years would never again be the same came to them, the regretfulsense of inevitable change, the consciousness of personal relegation. Then fear for Diana drove out every other consideration, and he went tohis own quarters with a heavy heart. 

When he came back in a few minutes with Henri following him the camphad undergone a transformation. With the promptness of perfectdiscipline the hundred men who had been chosen to go on the expeditionwere already waiting, each man standing by his horse, and the Sheik, quiet and impassive as usual, was superintending the distribution ofextra ammunition. A groom was walking The Hawk slowly up and down, andYusef, whose gloomy eyes had been fixed reproachfully on his chief, chafing against the order to remain behind to take command of thereinforcements should they be needed, went to him and took the horse'sbridle from him and brought him to the Sheik. Even as he held thestirrup Saint Hubert could see that he was expostulating with anunusual insistence, begging for permission to accompany them. But theSheik shook his head, and the young man stood sullenly aside to avoidThe Hawk's hoofs as he reared impatiently. 

Ahmed Ben Hassan motioned Saint Hubert to his side and in silence thecavalcade started at the usual swift gallop. The silence impressedRaoul, who was accustomed to the Arab's usual clamour. It affected hissensitive temperaments, filling him with a sinister foreboding. Thesilent band of stern-faced horsemen riding in close and orderlyformation behind them suggested something more than a mere reliefparty. The tradition of reckless courage and organised fightingefficiency that had made the tribe known and feared for generations hadbeen always maintained, and under the leadership of the last twoholders of the hereditary name to so high a degree that the respect inwhich it was held was such that no other tribe had ventured to disputeits supremacy, and for many years its serious fighting capacities hadnot been tested. 

Even Ibraheim Omair had inherited a feud that was largely traditional. Only once during the lifetime of the last Ahmed Ben Hassan had he daredto come into open conflict, and the memory of it had lasted until now. Skirmishes there had been and would always be inevitably sufficient tokeep the tribesmen in a state of perpetual expectancy, and for thisAhmed Ben Hassan preserved the rigid discipline that prevailed in histribe, insisting on the high standard that had kept them famous. Thelife-work that his predecessor had taken over from his father thepresent Ahmed Ben Hassan had carried on and developed with autocraticperseverance. The inborn love of fighting had been carefully fosteredin the tribe, the weapons with which they were armed were of the newestpattern. Raoul knew with perfect certainty that to the picked menfollowing them this hasty expedition meant only one thing--war, the warthat they had looked forward to all their lives, precipitated now by anaccident that gave to a handful of them the chance that hundreds oftheir fellow-tribesmen were longing for, a chance that sent themjoyfully behind their chief, careless whether the reinforcements thathad been sent for arrived in time or not. The smallness of theirnumbers was a source of pleasure rather than otherwise; if they wonthrough to them would be the glory of victory; if they were annihilatedwith them would rest the honour of dying with the leader whom theyworshipped, for not one of them doubted that Ahmed Ben Hassan would notsurvive his bodyguard, the flower of his tribe, the carefully chosenmen from whose ranks his personal escort was always drawn. With them hewould crush his hereditary enemy or with them he would die. 

The short twilight had gone and a brilliant moon shone high in theheavens, illuminating the surrounding country with a clear white light. At any other time the beauty of the scene, the glamour of the Easternnight, the head-long gallop in company with this band of fiercefighting men would have stirred Saint Hubert profoundly. His artistictemperament and his own absolute fearlessness and love of adventurewould have combined to make the expedition an exciting experience thathe would not willingly have foregone. But the reason for it all, theperil of the girl whom he loved so unexpectedly, changed the wholecolour of the affair, tinging it with a gravity and a suspense thatleft a cold fear in his heart. And if to him, what then to the manbeside him? The question that Ahmed Ben Hassan had negatived soscornfully a week before had been answered differently in the swiftlook that had crossed his face this evening. He had not spoken sincethey started, and Saint Hubert had not felt able to break the silence. They had left the level country and were in amongst the long, successive ranges of undulating ground, the summits standing out silverwhite in the gleaming moonlight, the hollows filled with dark shadow, like black pools of deep, still water. And at the bottom of one of theslopes the Sheik pulled up suddenly with a low, hissing exclamation. Awhite shape was lying face downwards, spread-eagled on the sand, almostunder The Hawk's feet, and at their approach two lean, slinking formscantered away into the night. The Sheik and Henri reached the stillfigure simultaneously and Saint Hubert almost as quickly. He made ahurried examination. The bullet that had stunned Gaston had glancedoff, leaving an ugly cut, and others that had hit him at the same timehad ploughed through his shoulder, breaking the bone and causingbesides wounds that had bled freely. He had staggered more than a milebefore he had fainted again from loss of blood. He came to under SaintHubert's handling, and lifted his heavy eyes to the Sheik, who waskneeling beside him. 

"Monseigneur--Madame--Ibraheim Omair, " he whispered weakly, andrelapsed into unconsciousness. 

For a moment the Sheik's eyes met Raoul's across his body, and thenAhmed Ben Hassan rose to his feet. "Be as quick as you can, " he said, and went back to his horse. He leaned against The Hawk, his fingersmechanically searching for and lighting a cigarette, his eyes fixedunseeingly on the group around Gaston. The valet's broken words hadconfirmed the fear that he had striven to crush since he discoveredDiana's absence. 

He had only seen Ibraheim Omair once when, ten years before, he hadgone with the elder Ahmed Ben Hassan to a meeting of the more powerfulchiefs at Algiers, arranged under the auspices of the FrenchGovernment, to confer on a complicated boundary question that hadthreatened an upheaval amongst the tribes which the nominal protectorsof the country were afraid would be prejudicial to their own prestige, as it would have been beyond their power to quell. He had chafed athaving to meet his hereditary enemy on equal terms, and only therestraining influence of the old Sheik, who exacted an unquestioningobedience that extended even to his heir, had prevented a catastrophethat might have nullified the meeting and caused infinitely morecomplications than the original boundary dispute. But the memory of therobber Sheik remained with him always, and the recollection of hisbloated, vicious face and gross, unwieldy body rose clearly before himnow. 

Ibraheim Omair and the slender daintiness that he had prized solightly. Diane! His teeth met through the cigarette in his mouth. Hissenseless jealousy and the rage provoked by Raoul's outspoken criticismhad recoiled on the innocent cause. She, not Saint Hubert, had felt thebrunt of his anger. In the innate cruelty of his nature it had givenhim a subtle pleasure to watch the bewilderment, alternating withflickering fear, that had come back into the deep blue eyes that fortwo months had looked into his with frank confidence. He had made heracutely conscious of his displeasure. Only last night, when his lack ofconsideration and his unwonted irritability had made her wince severaltimes during the evening and after Saint Hubert had gone to his owntent, he, had looked up to find her eyes fixed on him with anexpression that, in his dangerous mood, had excited all the brutalityof which he was capable, and had filled him with a desire to tortureher. The dumb reproach in her eyes had exasperated him, rousing thefiendish temper that had been hardly kept in check all the previousweek. And yet, when he held her helpless in his arms, quivering andshrinking from the embrace that was no caress, but merely the medium ofhis anger, and the reproach in her wavering eyes changed to muteentreaty, the pleasure he had anticipated in her fear had failed him asit had before, and had irritated him further. The wild beating of herheart, the sobbing intake of her breath, the knowledge of his powerover her, gave him no gratification, and he had flung her from himcursing her savagely, till she had fled into the other room with herhands over her ears to shut out the sound of his slow, deliberatevoice. And this morning he had left her without a sign of any kind, noword or gesture that might have effaced the memory of the previousnight. He had not meant to, he had intended to go back to her before hefinally rode away, but Saint Hubert's refusal to accompany him hadkilled the softer feelings that prompted him, and his rage had flamedup again. 

And now? The longing to hold her in his arms, to kiss the tears fromher eyes and the colour into her pale lips, was almost unbearable. Hewould give his life to keep even a shadow from her path, and she was inthe hands of Ibraheim Omair! The thought and all that it implied wastorture, but no sign escaped him of the hell he was enduring. Theunavoidable delay seemed interminable, and he swung into the saddle, hoping that the waiting would seem less with The Hawk's restless, nervous body gripped between his knees, for though the horse wouldstand quietly with his master beside him, he fretted continually atwaiting once the Sheik was mounted, and the necessity for soothing himwas preferable to complete inaction. 

Saint Hubert rose to his feet at last, and, leaving behind Henri andtwo Arabs, who were detailed to take the wounded man back to the camp, the swift gallop southward was resumed. On, over the rising and fallingground along which Gaston had stumbled, blind and faint with loss ofblood and the pain of his wounds, past the dead body of The Dancer, ghostly white in the moonlight, lying a little apart from thesemicircle of Arabs that proved the efficiency of Gaston's shootingwhere Diana and he had made their last stand. The Sheik made no signand did not check the headlong gallop, but continued on, The Hawktaking the fallen bodies that lay in his path in his stride, with onlya quiver of repugnance and a snort of disgust. Still on, past thehuddled bundles of tumbled draperies that marked the way significantly, avoiding them where the moonlight illuminated brightly, and riding overthem in the deep hollows, where once Raoul's horse stumbled badly andnearly fell, recovering himself with a wild scramble, and the Vicomteheard the dead man's skull crack under the horse's slipping hoof. 

The distant howling of jackals came closer and closer until, toppingone long rise and descending into a hollow that was long enough andwide enough to be fully lit by the moon, they came to the place wherethe ambush had been laid. Instinctively Ahmed Ben Hassan knew thatamongst the jostling heaps of corpses and dead horses lay the bodies ofhis own men. Perhaps amongst the still forms from which the jackals, whose hideous yelling they had heard, had slunk away, there might beone left with life enough to give some news. One of his own men whowould speak willingly, or one of Ibraheim Omair's who would be made tospeak. His lips curled back from his white teeth in a grin of purecruelty. 

The silence that had prevailed amongst his men broke suddenly as theysearched quickly among the dead. The Sheik waited impassively, silentamidst the muttered imprecations and threats of vengeance of hisfollowers as they laid beside him the six remains of what had beenDiana's escort, slashed and mutilated almost beyond recognition. But itwas he who noticed that the last terrible figure stirred slightly as itwas laid down, and it was into his face, grown suddenly strangelygentle, that the dying Arab looked with fast-filming eyes. The mansmiled, the happy smile of a child that had obtained an unexpectedreward, and raised his hand painfully in salute, then pointed mutely tothe south. 

The Sheik caught his follower's nerveless fingers as they fell in hisown strong grasp, and with a last effort the Arab drew his chief's handto his forehead and fell back dead. 

CHAPTER VIII

Slowly and painfully, through waves of deadly nausea and with thesurging of deep waters in her ears, Diana struggled back toconsciousness. The agony in her head was excruciating, and her limbsfelt cramped and bruised. Recollection was dulled in bodily pain, and, at first, thought was merged in physical suffering. But gradually thefog cleared from her brain and memory supervened hesitatingly. Sheremembered fragmentary incidents of what had gone before the oblivionfrom which she had just emerged. Gaston, and the horror and resolutionin his eyes, the convulsive working of his mouth as he faced her at thelast moment. Her own dread--not of the death that was imminent, butlest the mercy it offered should be snatched from her. Then before thevalet could effect his supreme devotion had come the hail of bullets, and he had fallen against her, the blood that poured from his woundssaturating her linen coat, and rolled over across her feet. Sheremembered vaguely the wild figures hemming her in, but nothing more. 

Her eyes were still shut; a leaden weight seemed fixed on them, and theeffort to open them was beyond her strength. "Gaston, " she whisperedfeebly, and stretched out her hand. But instead of his body or the dryhot sand her fingers had expected to encounter they closed over softcushions, and with the shock she sat up with a jerk, her eyes staringwide, but, sick and faint, she fell back again, her arm flung acrossher face, shielding the light that pierced like daggers through herthrobbing eye-balls. For a while she lay still, fighting against theweakness that overpowered her, and by degrees the horrible nauseapassed and the agony in her head abated, leaving only a dull ache. Thedesire to know where she was and what had happened made her forget herbruised body. She moved her arm slightly from before her eyes so thatshe could see, and looked cautiously from under thick lashes, screenedby the sleeve of her coat. She was lying on a pile of cushions in onecorner of a small-tented apartment which was otherwise bare, except forthe rug that covered the floor. In the opposite corner of the tent anArab woman crouched over a little brazier, and the smell of nativecoffee was heavy in the air. She closed her eyes again with a shudder. The attempted devotion of Gaston had been useless. This must be thecamp of the robber Sheik, Ibraheim Omair. 

She lay still, pressing closely down amongst the cushions, andclenching the sleeve of her jacket between her teeth to stifle thegroan that rose to her lips. A lump came into her throat as she thoughtof Gaston. In those last moments all inequality of rank had been sweptaway in their common peril--they had been only a white man and a whitewoman together in their extremity. She remembered how, when she hadpressed close to him, his hand had sought and gripped hers, conveyingcourage and sympathy. All that he could do he had done, he had shieldedher body with his own, it must have been over his lifeless body thatthey had taken her. He had proved his faithfulness, sacrificing hislife for his master's play-thing. Gaston was in all probability dead, but she was alive, and she must husband her strength for her own needs. She forced the threatening emotion down, and, with an effort, controlled the violent shivering in her limbs, and sat up slowly, looking at the Arab woman, who, hearing her move, turned to gaze ather. Instantly Diana realised that there was no help or compassion tobe expected from her. She was a handsome woman, who must have beenpretty as a girl, but there was no sign of softness in her sullen faceand vindictive eyes. Instinctively Diana felt that the glowing menaceof the woman's expression was inspired by personal hatred, and that herpresence in the lent was objectionable to her. And the feeling gave anecessary spur to the courage that was fast coming back to her. Shestared with all the haughtiness she could summon to her aid; she hadlearned her own power among the natives of India the previous year, andhere in the desert there was only one Arab whose eyes did not fallbeneath hers, and presently with a muttered word the woman turned backto her coffee-making. 

Diana's muscles relaxed and she sat back easily on the cushions, thelittle passage of wills had restored her confidence in herself. Shemoved her hand and it brushed against her jacket, coming away stainedand sticky, and she noticed for the first time that all one side andsleeve were soaked with blood. She ripped it off with a shudder andflung it from her, rubbing the red smear from her hands with a kind ofhorror. 

The little tent was intensely hot, and there was a close, pungent smellthat was eminently _native_ that she never experienced in the coolairiness and scrupulous cleanliness of Ahmed Ben Hassan's tents. Hersensitive lip curled with disgust, all her innate fastidiousness inrevolt. The heat aggravated a burning thirst that was parching herthroat. She got up on to her feet slowly, and with infinite caution, toprevent any jar that might start again the throbbing in her head; butthe effects of the blow were wearing off, and, though her headcontinued to ache, it did no more than that, and the sick, giddyfeeling had gone completely. She crossed the tent to the side of theArab woman. 

"Give me some water, " she said in French, but the woman shook her headwithout looking up. Diana repeated the request in Arabic, one of thefew sentences she knew without stumbling. This time the woman rose uphastily and held out a cup of the coffee she had been making. 

Diana hated the sweet, thick stuff, but it would do until she could getthe water she wanted, and she put out her hand to take the little cup. But her eyes met the other's fixed on her, and something in theirmalignant stare made her pause. A sudden suspicion shot through hermind. The coffee was drugged. What beyond the woman's expression madeher think so she did not know, but she was sure of it. She put the cupaside impatiently. 

"No. Not coffee. Water, " she said firmly. 

Before she realised what was happening the woman thrust a strong armround her and forced the cup to her lips. That confirmed Diana'ssuspicions and rage lent her additional strength. The woman was strong, but Diana was stronger, younger and more active. She dashed the cup tothe floor, spilling its contents, and, with an effort, tore theclinging hands from her and sent the woman crashing on to the ground, rolling against the brazier, oversetting it, and scattering brass potsand cups over the rug. The woman scrambled to her knees and beat outthe glowing embers, uttering scream after scream in a shrill, piercingvoice. And, in answer to her cries, a curtain at the side of the tent, that Diana had not noticed, slid aside and a gigantic Nubian came in. With outstretched hand shaking with rage, pointing at Diana, she burstinto voluble abuse, punctuating every few words with the shrieks thathad brought the negro. 

Diana could understand nothing of what she said, but her expressivegestures told the story of the struggle plainly enough. The Nubianlistened with white teeth flashing in a broad grin, and shook his headin response to some request urged with denunciatory fist. He picked upthe last remaining embers that had scattered on the rug, rubbing thesmouldering patches till they were extinguished, and then turned toleave the room. But Diana called him back. She went a step forward, herhead high, and looked him straight in the face. 

"Fetch me water!" she said imperiously. He pointed to the coffee thatthe woman had recommenced to make, her back turned to them, but Dianastamped her foot. "Water! Bring me water!" she said again, moreimperiously than before. With a wider grin the negro made a gesture ofacquiescence and went out, returning in a few moments with awater-skin. 

The thought of its condition made her hesitate for a moment, but onlyfor a moment. Her thirst was too great to allow niceties to interferewith it. She picked up one of the clean coffee-cups that had rolled toher feet, rinsed it several times, and then drank. The water was warmand slightly brackish, but she needed it too much to mind. In spite ofbeing tepid it relieved the dry, suffocating feeling in her throat andrefreshed her. The Nubian went away again, leaving the woman stillcrouching over the brazier. 

Diana walked back to the cushions and dropped down on to them gladly. The events of the last few moments had tried her more than sherealised, her legs were shaking under her, and she was thankful to sitdown. But her courage had risen with a bound; the fact that she wasphysically stronger than the woman who had been put to guard her, andalso that she had gained her point with the burly negro, had a greatmoral effect on her, further restoring her confidence in herself. 

Her position was an appalling one, but hope was strong within her. Thefact that since she had regained consciousness she had seen only thewoman and the Nubian seemed to argue that Ibraheim Omair must be absentfrom his camp; the thought that he might purposely be delaying themoment of inspecting his captive with a view to prolonging her mentaltorture she put from her as improbable. She did not credit him with somuch acumen. And from his absence her courage gained strength. If itcould only be prolonged until Ahmed reached her. That the Sheik wouldcome she knew, her faith in him was unbounded. If he only came in time!Hours had passed since the ambuscade had surprised them. It had beenearly afternoon then. Now the lighted lamp told her it was night. Howlate she did not know. Her watch had been broken some months before, and she had no means of even guessing the hour, but it must be well onin the evening. By now the absence of herself and Gaston and theirescort would be discovered. He would know her peril and he would cometo her. Of that she had no doubt. Although he had changed so strangelyin the last few days, though the wonderful gentleness of the last twomonths had merged again into indifference and cruelty, still she neverdoubted. Even if desire had passed and indifference had become so greatthat she was no longer necessary to him, still the Oriental jealousywith which he was so deeply imbued would never allow him to let herpass so lightly from his keeping. He might discard her at his ownpleasure, but no one would take her from him with impunity. Her woman'sintuition had sensed the jealousy that had actuated him during theunhappy days since Saint Hubert had come. An inconsistent jealousy thathad been unprovoked and unjustified, but for which she had suffered. She had known last night, when she winced under his sarcastic tongue, and later, when Saint Hubert had left them and his temper had suddenlyboiled over, that she was paying for the unaccustomed strain that hewas putting on his own feelings. His curses had eaten into her heart, and she had fled from him to stifle the coward instinct that urged herto confess her love and beg his mercy. She had lain awake withshivering apprehension waiting for him, but when, after nearly twohours, he had sauntered in, the usual cigarette between his lips, indifference had taken the place of rage, and he had ignored her, asshe had grown used to being ignored. And long after she knew from hiseven breathing that he was asleep she had lain wide-eyed beside him, grasping at what happiness she could, living for the moment as she hadschooled herself to live, trying to be content with just the fact ofhis nearness. And the indifference of the night had been maintainedwhen he had left her at dawn, his persistent silence pointing thecontinuance of his displeasure. But he would come, if for no otherreason than the same jealousy which held him in its inexorable grip. Hewould come! He would come! She whispered it over to herself as ifmerely the sound of the words gave her courage. He would not letanything happen to her. Every moment that Ibraheim Omair stayed awaywas so much gained, every moment he would be coming nearer. Thereversal of the role he played in her life brought a quivering smile toher lips. For the advent of the man who a few weeks before she hadloathed for his brutal abduction of herself she now prayed with thedesperation of despair. He represented safety, salvation, everythingthat made life worth living. 

A sudden noise and men's voices in the adjoining room sent her to herfeet with heaving breast and clenched hands. But the sharp, gutturalvoice predominating over the other voices killed the wild hope that hadsprung up in her by its utter dissimilarity to the soft low tones forwhich she longed. Ibraheim Omair! He had come first! She set her teethwith a long, shuddering breath, bracing herself to meet what wascoming. 

The Arab woman turned to look at her again with a sneering smile thatwas full of significance, but beyond a fleeting glance of disdain Dianapaid no attention to her. She stood rigid, one foot beating nervouslyinto the soft rug. She noticed irrelevantly at the moment that both herspurs and the empty holster had been removed whilst she wasunconscious, and with the odd detachment that transfers a train ofthought from the centre of importance even at a supreme moment, shewondered, with an annoyance that seemed curiously futile, why it hadbeen done. 

The voices in the next room continued, until Diana almost prayed forthe moment she was waiting for would come; suspense was worse than theordeal for which she was nerving herself, It came at last. The curtainslid aside again, and the same huge negro she had seen before entered. He came towards her, and her breath hissed in suddenly between her setteeth, but before he reached her the Arab woman intercepted him, blocking his way, and with wild eyes and passionate gestures poured outa stream of low, frenzied words. The Nubian turned on her impatientlyand thrust her roughly out of his way, and, coming to Diana, put outhis hand as if to grasp her arm, but she stepped back with flashingeyes and a gesture that he obeyed. 

Her heart was pounding, but she had herself under control. Only herhands twitched, her long fingers curling and uncurling spasmodically, and she buried them deep in her breeches' pockets to hide them. Shewalked slowly to the curtain and nodded to the Nubian to draw it aside, and slower still she passed into the other room. Only a little largerthan the one she had left, almost as bare, but her mind took in thesethings uncomprehendingly, for all her attention was focussed on thecentral figure in the room. 

Ibraheim Omair, the robber Sheik, lolling his great bulk on a pile ofcushions, a little inlaid stool with coffee beside him, and behind him, standing motionless as if formed of bronze, two other negroes, so likethe one that had summoned her that they seemed like statues that hadbeen cast from one mould. 

Diana paused for a moment framed in the entrance, then, with headthrown back and swaggering, boyish stride, she moved across the thickrugs leisurely and halted in front of the chief, looking straight athim with haughty, curling lips and insolent, half-closed eyes. The holdshe was exercising over herself was tremendous, her body was rigid withthe effort, and her hands deep down in her pockets clenched till thenails bit into the palms. Every instinct was rebelling against the calmshe forced upon herself. She longed to scream and make a dash for theopening that she guessed was behind her, and to take her chance in thedarkness outside. But she knew that such a chance was impossible; ifshe ever reached the open air she would never be allowed to get morethan a few steps from the tent. Her only course lay in the bravado thatalone kept her from collapse. She must convey the impression offearlessness, though cold terror was knocking at her heart. Masked withindifference her veiled eyes were watching the robber chief closely. This was, indeed, the Arab of her imaginings, this gross, unwieldyfigure lying among the tawdry cushions, his swollen, ferocious faceseamed and lined with every mark of vice, his full, sensual lips partedand showing broken, blackened teeth, his deep-set, bloodshot eyes witha look in them that it took all her resolution to sustain, a look ofsuch bestial evilness that the horror of it bathed her in perspiration. His appearance was slovenly, his robes, originally rich, were stainedand tumbled, the fat hands lying spread out on his knees were engrainedwith dirt, showing even against his dark skin. His heavy face lit upwith a gleam of malicious satisfaction as Diana came towards him, hisloose mouth broadened in a wicked smile. He leaned forward a little, weighing heavily on the hands that were on his knees, his eyes rovingslowly over her till they rested on her face again. 

"So! the white woman of my brother Ahmed Ben Hassan, " he said slowly, in villainous French, with a sudden, snarling intonation as he utteredhis enemy's name. "Ahmed Ben Hassan! May Allah burn his soul in hell!"he added with relish, and spat contemptuously. 

He leaned back on the cushions with a grunt, and drank some coffeenoisily. 

Diana kept her eyes fixed on him, and under their unwavering stare heseemed to be uneasy, his own inflamed eyes wandering ceaselessly overher, one hand fumbling at the curved hilt of a knife stuck in his belt, and at last he grew exasperated, hitching himself forward once more andbeckoning her to come nearer to him. She hesitated, and as she pauseduncertainly, there was a flutter of draperies behind her, and the Arabwoman from the inner room, evading the negro who stepped forward tostop her, flung herself at the feet of Ibraheim Omair, clinging to hisknees with a low wailing cry. In a flash Diana realised the meaning ofthe hatred that had gleamed in the woman's eyes earlier in the evening. To her she was a rival, whose coming to share the favours of her lordhad aroused all the jealousy of the reigning favourite. A wave ofdisgust mingled with the fear that was torturing her. She jerked herhead angrily, fighting against the terror that was growing on her, andfor a moment her lashes drooped and hid her eyes. When she looked upagain the woman was still crouched at the old Arab's feet, imploringand distraught. 

Ibraheim Omair looked down on her curiously, his lips drawn back fromhis blackened teeth in an evil grin, and then shook her off violentlywith a swift blow in the mouth, but the woman clung closer, withupturned, desperate face, a thin trickle of blood oozing from her lips, and with a hoarse growl that was like the dull roar of a savage beastthe robber chief caught her by the throat and held her for a moment, her frantic, clutching hands powerless against his strong grasp, thenslowly drew the long knife from the ample folds of his waist-cloth, andas slowly drove it home into the strangling woman's breast. With savagecallousness, before he released his hold of her, he wiped the stainedknife carefully on her clothing and replaced it, and then flung thedead body from him. It rolled over on the rug midway between him andDiana. 

There was a momentary silence in the room, and Diana became consciousof a muffled, rhythmical beat near her, like the ticking of a greatclock, and realised with dull wonder that it was her own heart beating. She seemed turned to stone, petrified with the horror of the last fewmoments. Her eyes were glued to the still figure on the rug before herwith the gaping wound in the breast, from which the blood was welling, staining the dark draperies of the woman's clothes, and creeping slowlydown to the rug on which the body lay. She was dazed, and odd thoughtsflitted through her mind. It was a pity, she thought stupidly, that theblood should spoil the rug. It was a lovely rug. She wondered what itwould have cost in Biskra--less, probably, than it would in London. Then she forgot the rug as her eyes travelled upward to the woman'sface. The mouth was open and the streak of blood was drying, but it wasthe eyes, protruding, agonised, that brought Diana abruptly to herself. She seemed to wake suddenly to the full realisation of what hadhappened and to her own peril. She felt physically sick for a moment, but she fought it down. Very slowly she raised her head, and, meetingIbraheim Omair's eyes fixed on her, she looked full at him across thedead woman's body and laughed! It was that or shriek. The curls wereclinging drenched on her forehead, and she wondered if her clenchedhands would ever unclose. She must make no sign, she must not scream orfaint, she must keep her nerve until Ahmed came. Oh, dear God, send himquickly! The laugh wavered hysterically, and she caught her lip betweenher teeth. She must do something to distract her attention from thatawful still shape at her feet. Almost unconsciously she grasped thecigarette case in her pocket and took it out, dragging her eyes fromthe horrible sight on which they were fixed, and chose and lit acigarette with slow care, flicking the still-burning match on to thecarpet between the feet of the negro who stood near her. He had notmoved since he had failed to stop the woman's entrance, and the twostationed behind the pile of cushions had stood motionless, their eyeshardly following the tragedy enacted before them. At a nod from thechief they came now and carried away the body of the woman. Onereturned in a moment, bringing fresh coffee, and then vanishednoiselessly. 

Then Ibraheim Omair leaned forward with a horrible leer and beckoned toDiana, patting the cushions beside him. Mastering the loathing thatfilled her she sat down with all the unconcern she could assume. Theproximity of the man nauseated her. He reeked of sweat and grease andill-kept horses, the pungent stench of the native. Her thoughts wentback to the other Arab, of whose habits she had been forced into suchan intimate knowledge. Remembering all that she had heard of the desertpeople she had been surprised at the fastidious care he took ofhimself, the frequent bathing, the spotless cleanliness of his robes, the fresh wholesomeness that clung about him, the faint, clean smell ofshaving-soap mingling with the perfume of the Turkish tobacco that wasalways associated with him. 

The contrast was hideous. 

She refused the coffee he offered her with a shake of her head, payingno attention to his growl of protest, not even understanding it, for hespoke in Arabic. As she laid down the end of her cigarette with almostthe feeling of letting go a sheet anchor--for it had at least kept herlips from trembling--his fat hand closed about her wrist and he jerkedher towards him. 

"How many rifles did the Frenchman bring to that son of darkness?" hesaid harshly. 

She turned her head, surprised at the question, and met his bloodshoteyes fixed on hers, half-menacing, half-admiring, and looked away againhastily. "I do not know. "

His fingers tightened on her wrist. "How many men had Ahmed Ben Hassanin the camp in which he kept you?"

"I do not know. "

"I do not know! I do not know!" he echoed with a sudden savage laugh. "You will know when I have done with you. " He crushed her wrist untilshe winced with pain, and turned her head away further that she mightnot see his face. Question after question relating to the Sheik and histribe followed in rapid succession, but to all of them Diana remainedsilent, with averted head and compressed lips. He should not learnanything from her that might injure the man she loved, though hetortured her, though her life paid the price of her silence, as itprobably would. She shivered involuntarily. "Shall I tell you what theywould do to him?" She could hear the Sheik's voice plainly as on thenight when she had asked him what Gaston's fate would be at the handsof Ibraheim Omair. She could hear the horrible meaning he had put intothe words, she could see the terrible smile that had accompanied them. Her breath came faster, but her courage still held. She clungdesperately to the hope that was sustaining her. Ahmed must come intime. She forced down the torturing doubts that whispered that he mightnever find her, that he might come too late, that when he came shemight be beyond a man's desire. 

Ibraheim Omair ceased his questioning. "Later you will speak, " he saidsignificantly, and drank more coffee. And his words revived theagonising thoughts she had crushed down. Her vivid imagination conjuredup the same ghastly mental pictures that had appalled her when she hadapplied them to Gaston, but now it was herself who was the centralfigure in all the horrors she imagined, until the shuddering she triedto suppress shook her from head to foot, and she clenched her teeth tostop them chattering. 

Ibraheim Omair kept his hold upon her, and presently, with a horribleloathing, she felt his hand passing over her arm, her neck, and downthe soft curves of her slim young body, then with a mutteredejaculation he forced her to face him. 

"What are you listening for? You think that Ahmed Ben Hassan will come?Little fool! He has forgotten you already. There are plenty more whitewomen in Algiers and Oran that he can buy with his gold and his devilface. The loves of Ahmed Ben Hassan are as the stars in number. Theycome and go like the swift wind in the desert, a hot breath--and it'sfinished. He will not come, and if he does, he will not find you, forin an hour we shall be gone. "

Diana writhed in his grasp. The hateful words in the guttural voice, pronounced in vile French, the leering, vicious face with the light ofadmiration growing in the bloodshot eyes, were all a ghastly nightmare. With a sudden desperate wrench she freed herself and fled across thetent--panic-stricken at last. But in her blind rush she tripped, andwith a swiftness that seemed incompatible with his unwieldinessIbraheim Omair followed her and caught her in his arms. Struggling hecarried her to the divan. For a moment he paused, and instinctivelyDiana lay still, reserving her strength for the final struggle. 

"One hour, my little gazelle, one hour----" he said hoarsely, and benthis face to hers. 

With a cry Diana flung her head aside and strained away from him, fighting with the strength of madness. She fought like a boy with aswift thought of gratitude for Aubrey's training, and twisting andwrithing she managed to slip through his grasp until her feet rested onthe ground. But his grip on her never relaxed; he dragged her back tohim, resisting fiercely, ripping the thin shirt from her shoulders, baring her white, heaving bosom. Gasping, she struggled, until, littleby little, his arms closed round her again. She braced her handsagainst his chest, fending him from her till she felt the muscles inher arms must crack, but the crushing force of his whole weight wasbearing her steadily backwards, and downwards on to the soft cushionsbeside them. His hot breath was on her face, the sickening reek of hisclothes was in her nostrils. She felt her resistance growing weaker, her heart was labouring, beating with wild bounds that suffocated her, the strength was going from her arms, only a moment more and her forcewould be exhausted. Her brain was growing numbed, as it had been whenthe man who held her had murdered the woman before her eyes. If hewould only kill her now. Death would be easy compared with this. Thefaint hope that still lingered was almost extinguished. Ahmed had notcome, and in her agony the thought of him was a further torture. Thesneering words of Ibraheim Omair had not shaken her faith. He wouldcome, but he would come too late. He would never know now that sheloved him. Oh, God! How she loved him! Ahmed! Ahmed! And with thesoundless cry the last remnant of her strength went all at once, andshe fell weakly against the chief. He forced her to her knees, and, with his hand twined brutally in her curls, thrust her head back. Therewas a mad light in his eyes and a foam on his lips as he dragged theknife from his waistbelt and laid the keen edge against her throat. Shedid not flinch, and after a moment he dropped it with a horrible laugh. 

"No, afterwards, " he said, and picked her up unresistingly. He flungher on the cushions and for one awful moment she felt his hands on her. Then from outside came a sudden uproar and the sharp crack of rifles. Then in a lull in the firing the Sheik's powerful voice: "Diane!Diane!"

His voice and the knowledge of his nearness gave her new strength. Sheleaped up in spite of Ibraheim Omair's gripping hands. "Ahmed!" shescreamed once, then the chief's hand dashed against her mouth, but, frantic, she caught it in her teeth, biting it to the bone, and as hewrenched it away, shrieked again, "Ahmed! Ahmed!"

But it seemed impossible that her voice could be heard above thedemoniacal noise outside the tent, and she could not call again, for, with a snarl of rage, the chief caught her by the throat as he hadcaught the Arab woman. And like the Arab woman her hands tore at hisgripping fingers vainly. Choking, stifling with the agony in herthroat, her lungs seemed bursting, the blood was beating in her earslike the deafening roar of waves, and the room was darkening with thefilm that was creeping over her eyes. Her hands fell powerless to hersides and her knees gave way limply. He was holding her upright only bythe clutch on her throat. The drumming in her ears grew louder, thetent was fading away into blackness. Dimly, with no kind of emotion, she realised that he was squeezing the life out of her and she heardhis voice coming, as it were, from a great distance: "You will notlanguish long in Hawiyat without your lover. I will send him quickly toyou. "

She was almost unconscious, but she heard the sneering voice breaksuddenly and the deadly pressure on her throat relaxed as the chief'shands rapidly transferred their grip to her aching shoulders, swingingher away from him and in front of him. To lift her head was agony, andthe effort brought back the black mist that had lessened with theslackening of Ibraheim Omair's fingers round her neck, but it clearedagain sufficiently for her to see, through a blurring haze, the outlineof the tall figure that was facing her, standing by the ripped-backdoorway. 

There was a pause, a silence that contrasted oddly with the tumultoutside, and Diana wondered numbly why the Sheik did nothing, why hedid not use the revolver that was clenched in his hand Then slowly sheunderstood that he dared not fire, that the chief was holding her, aliving shield, before him, sheltering himself behind the only thingthat would deter Ahmed Ben Hassan's unerring shots. Cautiously IbraheimOmair moved backward, still holding her before him, hoping to gain theinner room. But in the shock of his enemy's sudden appearance hemiscalculated the position of the divan and stumbled against it, losinghis balance for only a moment, but long enough to give the man whoserevolver covered him the chance he wanted. With the cold ring of steelpressing against his forehead the robber chief's hands dropped fromDiana, and she slid weak and trembling on to the rug, clasping herpulsating throat, moaning with the effort that it was to breathe. 

For a moment the two men looked into each other's eyes and theknowledge of death leaped into Ibraheim Omair's. With the fatalism ofhis creed he made no resistance, as, with a slow, terrible smile, theSheik's left hand reached out and fastened on his throat. It would bequicker to shoot, but as Diana had suffered so should her torturer die. All the savagery in his nature rose uppermost. Beside the pitiful, gasping little figure on the rug at his feet there was the memory ofsix mutilated bodies, his faithful followers, men of his own age whohad grown to manhood with him, picked men of his personal bodyguard whohad been intimately connected with him all his life, and who had servedhim with devotion and unwavering obedience. They and others who hadfrom time to time fallen victims to Ibraheim Omair's hatred of his morepowerful enemy. The man who was responsible for their deaths was in hispower at last, the man whose existence was a menace and whose life wasan offence, of whose subtleties he had been trained from a boy tobeware by the elder Ahmed Ben Hassan, who had bequeathed to him thetribal hatred of the race of whom Ibraheim Omair was head, and whosedying words had been the wish that his successor might himselfexterminate the hereditary enemy. But far beyond the feelings inspiredby tribal hatred or the remembrance of the vow made five years agobeside the old Sheik's deathbed, or even the death of his ownfollowers, was the desire to kill, with his bare hands, the man who hadtortured the woman he loved. The knowledge of her peril, that haddriven him headlong through the night to her aid, the sight of herhelpless, agonised, in the robber chief's hands, had filled him with amadness that only the fierce joy of killing would cure. Before he couldlisten to the clamouring of the new love in his heart, before he couldgather up into his arms the beloved little body that he was yearningfor, he had to destroy the man whose murders were countless and who hadat last fallen into his hands. 

The smile on his face deepened and his fingers tightened slowly ontheir hold. But with the strangling clasp of Ahmed Ben Hassan's handsupon him the love of life waked again in Ibraheim Omair and hestruggled fiercely. Crouched on the floor Diana watched the two bigfigures swaying in mortal combat with wide, fearful eyes, her handsstill holding her aching throat. Ibraheim Omair wrestled for his life, conscious of his own strength, but conscious also of the greaterstrength that was opposed to him. The Sheik let go the hold upon histhroat and with both arms locked about him manoeuvred to get theposition he required, back to the divan. Then, with a wrestler's trick, he swept Ibraheim's feet from under him and sent his huge bodysprawling on to the cushions, his knee on his enemy's chest, his handson his throat. With all his weight crushing into the chief's breast, with the terrible smile always on his lips, he choked him slowly todeath, till the dying man's body arched and writhed in his last agony, till the blood burst from his nose and mouth, pouring over the handsthat held him like a vice. 

Diana's eyes never left the Sheik's face, she felt the old paralysingfear of him rushing over her, irresistibly drowning for the moment eventhe love she had for him. She had seen him in cruel, even savage moods, but nothing that had ever approached the look of horrible pleasure thatwas on his face now. It was a revelation of the real man with the thinlayer of civilisation stripped from him, leaving only the primitivesavage drunk with the lust of blood. And she was afraid, with ashuddering horror, of the merciless, crimson-stained hands that wouldtouch her, of the smiling, cruel mouth that would be pressed on hers, and of the murderous light shining in his fierce eyes. But for thedying wretch expiating his crimes so hideously she felt no pity, he wasbeyond all sympathy. She had seen him murder wantonly, and she knewwhat her own fate would have been if Ahmed Ben Hassan had not come. Andthe retribution was swift. The Sheik was being more merciful to himthan the robber chief had been to many, a few moments of agony insteadof hours of lingering torture. 

The noise outside the tent was growing louder as the fighting rolledback in its direction, and once or twice a bullet ripped through thehangings. One that came closer than the others made Diana turn her headand she saw what Ahmed Ben Hassan, absorbed in the fulfilment of hishorrible task, had not even thought of--the three big negroes and adozen Arabs who had stolen in silently from the inner room. For once, in the intoxication of the moment, the Sheik was careless and caughtoff his guard. Agony leaped into her eyes. The fear of him was wipedout in the fear for him. She tried to warn him, but no sound would comefrom her throbbing throat, and she crawled nearer to him and touchedhim. He dropped the dead chief back into the tumbled cushions andlooked up swiftly, and at the same moment Ibraheim Omair's men made arush. Without a word he thrust her behind the divan and turned to meetthem. Before his revolver they gave way for a moment, but the burlyNubians behind swept the Arabs forward. Three times he fired and one ofthe negroes and two Arabs fell, but the rest hurled themselves on him, and Diana saw him surrounded. His strength was abnormal, and for someminutes the struggling mass of men strained and heaved about him. Dianawas on her feet, swaying giddily, powerless to help him, cold withdread. Then above the clamour that was raging inside and out she heardSaint Hubert's voice shouting, and with a shriek that seemed to rip hertortured throat she called to him. The Sheik, too, heard, and with adesperate effort for a moment won clear, but one of the Nubians wasbehind him, and, as Saint Hubert and a crowd of the Sheik's own menpoured in through the opening, he brought down a heavy club withcrashing force on Ahmed Ben Hassan's head, and as he fell another drovea broad knife deep into his back. For a few minutes more the trampingfeet surged backward and forward over the Sheik's prostrate body. Dianatried to get to him, faint and stumbling, flung here and there by thefighting, struggling men, until a strong hand caught her and drew heraside. She strained against the detaining arm, but it was one ofAhmed's men, and she gave in as a growing faintness came over her. Mistily she saw Saint Hubert clear a way to his friend's side, and thenshe fainted, but only for a few moments. Saint Hubert was still on hisknees beside the Sheik when she opened her eyes, and the tent was quitequiet, filled with tribesmen waiting in stoical silence. The camp ofIbraheim Omair had been wiped out, but Ahmed Ben Hassan's men lookedonly at the unconscious figure of their leader. 

Saint Hubert glanced up hastily as Diana came to his side. "You are allright?" he asked anxiously, but she did not answer. What did it matterabout her?

"Is he going to die?" she said huskily, for speaking still hurthorribly. 

"I don't know--but we must get away from here. I need more appliancesthan I have with me, and we are too few to stay and risk a possibleattack if there are others of Ibraheim Omair's men in theneighbourhood. "

Diana looked down on the wounded man fearfully. "But the ride--thejolting, " she gasped. 

"It has got to be risked, " replied Saint Hubert abruptly. 

Of the long, terrible journey back to Ahmed Ben Hassan's camp Diananever remembered very much. It was an agony of dread and apprehension, of momentary waiting for some word or exclamation from the powerfulArab who was holding him, or from Saint Hubert, who was riding besidehim, that would mean his death, and of momentary respites from fear andfaint glimmerings of hope as the minutes dragged past and the word shewas dreading did not come. Once a sudden halt seemed to stop her heartbeating, but it was only to give a moment's rest to the Arab whosestrength was taxed to the uttermost with the Sheik's inert weight, butwho refused to surrender his privilege to any other. Moments ofsemi-unconsciousness, when she swayed against the arm of the watchfultribesman riding beside her, and his muttered ejaculation of "Allah!Allah!" sent a whispered supplication to her own lips to the God theyboth worshipped so differently. He must not die. God would not be socruel. 

From time to time Saint Hubert spoke to her, and the quiet courage ofhis voice steadied her breaking nerves. As they passed the scene of theambuscade he told her of Gaston. It was there that the first band ofwaiting men met them, warned already of their coming by a couple ofArabs whom the Vicomte had sent on in advance with the news. 

The dawn was breaking when they reached the camp. Diana had a glimpseof rows of unusually silent men grouped beside the tent, but all hermind was concentrated on the long, limp figure that was being carefullylifted down from the sweating horse. They carried him into the tent andlaid him on the divan, beside which Henri had already put out all theimplements that his master would need. 

While Saint Hubert, with difficulty, cleared the tent of the Sheik'smen Diana stood beside the divan and looked at him. He was soaked inblood that had burst through the temporary bandages, and his whole bodybore evidence of the terrible struggle that had gone before the blowthat had felled him. One blood-covered hand hung down almost touchingthe rug. Diana lifted it in her own, and the touch of the nervelessfingers sent a sob into her throat. She caught her lip between herteeth to stop it trembling as she laid his hand down on the cushions. Saint Hubert came to her, rolling up his shirt-sleeves significantly. 

"Diane, you have been through enough, " he said gently. "Go and restwhile I do what I can for Ahmed. I will come and tell you as soon as Iam finished. "

She looked up fiercely. "It's no good telling me to go away, because Iwon't. I must help you. I can help you. I shall go mad if you don't letme do something. See! My hands are quite steady. " She held them out asshe spoke, and Saint Hubert gave in without opposition. 

The weakness that had sent her trembling into his arms the day beforehad been the fear of danger to the man she loved, but in the face ofactual need the courage that was so much a part of her nature did notfail her. He made no more remonstrances, but set about his workquickly. And all through the horrible time that followed she did notfalter. Her face was deadly pale, and dark lines showed below her eyes, but her hands did not shake, and her voice was low and even. Shesuffered horribly. The terrible wound that the Nubian's knife had madewas like a wound in her own heart. She winced as if the hurt had beenher own when Saint Hubert's gentle, dexterous fingers touched theSheik's bruised head. And when it was over and Raoul had turned asideto wash his hands, she slipped on to her knees beside him. Would helive? The courage that had kept her up so far had not extended toasking Saint Hubert again, and a few muttered words from Henri, towhich the Vicomte had responded with only a shrug, had killed the wordsthat were hovering on her lips. She looked at him with anguished eyes. 

Only a few hours before he had come to her in all the magnificence ofhis strength. She looked at the long limbs lying now so still, soterribly, suggestively still, and her lips trembled again, but herpain-filled eyes were dry. She could not cry, only her throat ached andthrobbed perpetually. She leaned over him whispering his name, and asudden hunger came to her to touch him, to convince herself that he wasnot dead. She glanced back over her shoulder at Saint Hubert, but hehad gone to the open doorway to speak to Yusef, and was standing outunder the awning. She bent lower over the unconscious man; his lipswere parted slightly, and the usual sternness of his mouth was relaxed. 

"Ahmed, oh, my dear!" she whispered unsteadily, and kissed him withlips that quivered against the stillness of his. Then for a moment shedropped her bright head beside the bandaged one on the pillow, but whenthe Vicomte came back she was kneeling where he had left her, her handsclasped over one of the Sheik's and her face hidden against thecushions. 

Saint Hubert put his hand on her shoulder. "Diane, you are torturingyourself unnecessarily. We cannot know for some time how it will gowith him. Try and get some sleep for a few hours. You can do no good bystaying here. Henri and I will watch. I will call you if there is anychange, my word of honour. "

She shook her head without looking up. "I can't go. I couldn't sleep. "

Saint Hubert did not press it. "Very well, " he said quietly, "but ifyou are going to stay you must take off your riding-boots and put onsomething more comfortable than those clothes. "

She realised the sense of what he was saying, and obeyed him without aword. She even had to admit to herself a certain sensation of reliefafter she had bathed her aching head and throat, and substituted athin, silk wrap for the torn, stained riding-suit. 

Henri was pouring out coffee when she came back, and Saint Hubertturned to her with a cup in his outstretched hand. "Please take it. Itwill do you good, " he said, with a little smile that was not reflectedin his anxious eyes. 

She took it unheeding, and, swallowing it hastily, went to the side ofthe divan again. She slid down on to the rug where she had kneltbefore. The Sheik was lying as she had left him. For a few moments shelooked at him, then drowsily her eyes closed and her head fell forwardon the cushions, and with a half-sad smile of satisfaction Saint Hubertgathered her up into his arms. 

He carried her into the bedroom, hesitating beside the couch before heput her down. Surely one moment out of a lifetime might be granted tohim. He would never have the torturing happiness of holding her in hisarms again, would never again clasp her against the heart that wascrying out for her with the same mad passion that had swept over himyesterday. He looked down longingly on the pale face lying against hisarm, and his features contracted at the sight of the cruel marksmarring the whiteness of her delicate throat. The love that all hislife he had longed for, that he had sought vainly through manycountries, had come to him at last, and it had come too late. Thehelpless loveliness lying in his arms was not for him. It was Ahmedwhom she loved, Ahmed who had waked to such a tardy recognition of thepriceless gift that she had given him, Ahmed whom he must wrest fromthe grim spectre that was hovering near him lest the light that shonein her violet eyes should go out in the blackness of despair. And yetas he looked at her with eyes filled with hopeless misery a demon ofsuggestion whispered within him, tempting him. He knew his friend as noone else did. What chance of happiness had any woman with a man likeAhmed Ben Hassan, at the mercy of his savage nature and passionatechangeable moods? What reason to suppose that the love that had flamedup so suddenly at the thought that he had lost her would survive theknowledge of repossession? To him, all his life, a thing desired hadupon possession become valueless. With the fulfilment of acquisitionhad come always disinterest. The pleasure of pursuit faded withownership. Would this hapless girl who had poured out such a wealth oflove at the feet of the man who had treated her brutally fare anybetter at his hands? Her chance was slight, if any. Ahmed in the fullpower of his strength again would be the man he had always been, implacable, cruel, merciless. Saint Hubert's own longing, hispassionate, Gallic temperament, were driving him as they had driven himthe day before. The longing to save her from misery was acute, that, and his own love, prompted by the urging of the desire within him. Thenhe trembled, and a great fear of himself came over him. Ahmed was hisfriend. Who was he that he should judge him? He could at least behonest with himself, he could own the truth. He coveted what was nothis, and masked his envy with a hypocrisy that now appearedcontemptible. The clasp of his arms around her seemed suddenly aprofanation, and he laid her down very gently on the low couch, drawingthe thin coverlet over her, and went back slowly to the other room. 

He sent Henri away and sat down beside the divan to watch with afeeling of weariness that was not bodily. The great tent was verystill, a pregnant silence seemed to hang in the air, a brooding hushthat strained Saint Hubert's already overstrained nerves. He had needof all his calm, and he gripped himself resolutely. For a time AhmedBen Hassan lay motionless, and then, as the day crept on and the earlyrays of the warm sun filled the tent, he moved uneasily, and began tomutter feverishly in confused Arabic and French. At first the wordsthat came were almost unintelligible, pouring out with rapidindistinctness, then by degrees his voice slowed, and hesitating, interrupted sentences came clearly from his lips. And beside him, withhis face buried in his hands, Raoul de Saint Hubert thanked Godfervently that he had saved Diana the added torture of listening to therevelations of the past four months. 

The first words were in Arabic, then the slow, soft voice lapsed intoFrench, pure as the Vicomte's own. 

"Two hours south of the oasis with the three broken palm trees by thewell.... Lie still, you little fool, it is useless to struggle. Youcannot get away, I shall not let you go.... Why have I brought youhere? You ask me why? _Mon Dieu!_ Are you not woman enough toknow? No! I will not spare you. Give me what I want willingly and Iwill be kind to you, but fight me, and by Allah! you shall pay thecost!... I know you hate me, you have told me so already. Shall I makeyou love me?... Still disobedient? When will you learn that I ammaster?... I have not tired of you yet, you lovely little wildthing, _garcon manque.... _ You say she is cowed; I say she iscontent--content to give me everything I ask of her.... For four monthsshe has fought me. Why does it give me no pleasure to have broken herat last? Why do I want her still? She is English and I have made herpay for my hatred of her cursed race. I have tortured her to keep myvow, and still I want her.... Diane, Diane, how beautiful you are!... What devil makes me hate Raoul after twenty years? Last night she onlyspoke to him, and when he went I cursed her till I saw the terror inher eyes. She fears me. Why should I care if she loves him.... I knewshe was not asleep when I went to her. I felt her quivering besideme.... I wanted to kill Raoul when he would not come with me, but forthat I would have gone back to her.... Allah! how long the day hasbeen.... Has it been long to her? Will she smile or tremble when Icome?... Where is Diane?... Diane, Diane, how could I know how much youmeant to me? How could I know that I should love you?... Diane, Diane, my sunshine. The tent is cold and dark without you.... Ibraheim Omair!That devil and Diane! Oh, Allah! Grant me time to get to her.... Howthe jackals are howling.... See, Raoul, there are the tents.... Diane, where are you?... Grand Dieu! He has been torturing her!... You knewthat I would come, _ma bien aimee_, only a few moments while Ikill him, then I can hold you in my arms. _Dieu!_ If you knew howmuch I loved you.... Diane, Diane, it is all black. I cannot see you, Diane, Diane.... "

And hour after hour with weary hopelessness the tired voice wenton--"Diane, Diane.... "

CHAPTER IX

It was evening when Diana opened drowsy and heavy eyes, a bitter tastein her mouth from the effects of the drug that Saint Hubert had givenher. Everything had been laid out in readiness for her waking with thelittle touches that were characteristic of Zilah's handiwork, but theArab girl herself was not visible. The lamp was lighted, and Dianaturned her head languidly, still half confused, to look at the clockbeside her. The tiny chime sounded seven times, and with a rush ofrecollection she leaped up. More than twelve hours since she had kneltbeside him after drinking the coffee that Raoul had given her. Sheguessed what he had done and tried to be grateful, but the thought ofwhat might have happened during the twelve hours she had lain like alog was horrible. She dressed with feverish haste and went into theouter room. It was filled with Arabs, many of whom she did notrecognise, and she knew that they must belong to the reinforcementsthat Ahmed Ben Hassan had sent for. Two, who seemed from theirappearance to be petty chiefs, were talking in low tones to SaintHubert, who looked worn and tired. The rest were grouped silently aboutthe divan, looking at the still-unconscious Sheik. The restlessness anddelirium of the morning had passed and been succeeded by a death-likestupor. Nearest to him stood Yusef, his usual swaggering self-assurancechanged into an attitude of deepest dejection, and his eyes, that werefixed on Ahmed Ben Hassan's face, were like those of a whipped dog. 

Gradually the tent emptied until only Yusef was left, and at last, reluctantly, he too went, stopping at the entrance to speak to SaintHubert, who had just taken leave of the two headmen. 

The Vicomte came back, bringing a chair for Diana, and put her into itwith gentle masterfulness. "Sit down, " he said almost gruffly. "Youlook like a ghost. "

She looked up at him reproachfully. "You drugged that coffee, Raoul. Ifhe had died to-day while I was asleep I don't think I could ever haveforgiven you. "

"My dear child, " he said gravely, "you don't know how near you were tocollapse. If I had not made you sleep I should have had three patientson my hands instead of two. "

"I am very ungrateful, " she murmured, with a tremulous little smile. 

Saint Hubert brought a chair for himself and dropped into it wearily. He felt very tired, the strain of the past twenty-four hours had beentremendous. He had a very real fear that was fast growing into aconviction that his skill was going to prove unequal to save hisfriend's life, and beside that anxiety and his physical fatigue he hadfought a bitter fight with himself all day, tearing out of his heartthe envy and jealousy that filled it, and locking away his love as asecret treasure to be hidden for always. His devotion to Ahmed BenHassan had survived the greatest test that could be imposed upon it, and had emerged from the trial strengthened and refined, with everytrace of self obliterated. It had been the hardest struggle of hislife, but it was over now, and all the bitterness had passed, leavingonly a passionate desire for Diana's happiness that outweighed everyother thought. One spark of comfort remained. He would not be quiteuseless. His help and sympathy would be necessary to her, and even forthat he was grateful. 

He looked across the divan at her, and the change that the last fewhours had made in her struck him painfully. The alert, vigorousboyishness that had been so characteristic was gone. Her slim figuredrooping listlessly in the big chair, her white face with the new marksof suffering on it, and her wide eyes burning with dumb misery, wereall purely womanly. And yet though he resented the change he wished itcould have gone further. The restraint she was putting on herself wasunnatural. She asked no questions and she shed no tears. He could haveborne them both easier than the silent anguish of her face. He fearedthe results of the emotion she was repressing so rigidly. 

There was a long silence. 

Henri came in once and Diana roused herself to ask for Gaston, and thenrelapsed into silent watchfulness again. She sighed once, a longquivering sigh that nearly broke Saint Hubert's heart. He rose and bentover the Sheik with his fingers on his wrist, and as he laid thenerveless hand down again she leaned nearer and covered it with herown. 

"His hand is so big for an Arab's, " she said softly, like a thoughtspoken aloud unconsciously. 

"He is not an Arab, " replied Saint Hubert with sudden, impatientvehemence. "He is English. "

Diana looked up at him swiftly with utter bewilderment in her startledeyes. "I don't understand, " she faltered. "He hates the English. "

"_Quand-meme_, he is the son of one of your English peers. Hismother was a Spanish lady; many of the old noble Spanish families haveMoorish blood in their veins, the characteristics crop up even aftercenturies. It is so with Ahmed, and his life in the desert hasaccentuated it. Has he never told you anything about himself?"

She shook her head. "Sometimes I have wondered----" she saidreflectively. "He seemed different from the others, and there has beenso much that I could never understand. But then again there were timeswhen he seemed pure Arab, " she added in a lower voice and with aninvoluntary shiver. 

"You ought to know, " said Saint Hubert. "Yes!" he went on firmly, asshe tried to interrupt him. "It is due to you. It will explain so manythings. I will take the responsibility. His father is the Earl ofGlencaryll. "

"But I know him, " said Diana wonderingly. "He was a friend of myfather. I saw him only a few months ago when Aubrey and I passedthrough Paris. He is such a magnificent-looking old man, so fierce andsad. Oh, now I know why that awful frown of Ahmed's has always seemedso familiar. Lord Glencaryll frowns like that. It is the famous Caryllscowl. But I still don't understand. " She looked from Saint Hubert tothe unconscious man on the divan and back to Saint Hubert with a newtrouble growing in her eyes. 

"I had better tell you the whole story, " said Raoul, dropping back intohis chair. 

"Thirty-six years ago my father, who was as great a wanderer as I am, was staying here in the desert with his friend the Sheik Ahmed BenHassan. A chance acquaintance some years before over the purchase ofsome horses had ripened into a very intimate friendship that wasunusual between a Frenchman and an Arab. The Sheik was a wonderful man, very enlightened, with strong European tendencies. As a matter of purefact he was not too much in sympathy with the French form ofadministration as carried on in Algeria, but he was not affectedsufficiently by it to make any real difficulty. The territory that heregarded as his own lay too much to the south, and he kept his largeand scattered tribe in too good order for any interference to bepossible. He was unmarried, and the women of his own race seemed tohave no attraction for him. He was wrapped up in his tribe and hishorses. My father had come for a stay of some months. My mother hadrecently died and he wanted to get away from everything that remindedhim of her. One evening, shortly after his arrival at the camp, a partyof the Sheik's men who had been absent for some days in the north onthe chief's affairs arrived, bringing with them a woman whom they hadfound wandering in the desert. How she had got there, or from whatdirection she had come, they did not know. They were nearercivilisation than Ahmed Ben Hassan's camp at the time, but with truenative tendency to avoid responsibility they thought that the disposalof her was a matter more for their Sheik than themselves. She couldgive no account of herself, as, owing to the effects of the sun orother causes, she was temporarily out of her mind. Arabs are verygentle with any one who is mad--'Allah has touched them!' She was takento the tent of one of the headmen, whose wife looked after her. Forsome days it was doubtful whether she would recover, and her conditionwas aggravated by the fact that she was shortly to become a mother. Shedid regain her senses after a time, however, but nothing could make hersay anything about herself, and questions reduced her to terrible fitsof hysterical crying which were prejudicial in her state of health. Sheseemed calmest when she was left quite alone, but even then she startedat the slightest sound, and the headman's wife reported that she wouldlie for hours on her bed crying quietly to herself. She was quiteyoung--seemingly not more than nineteen or twenty. From her accents myfather decided that she was Spanish, but she would admit nothing, noteven her nationality. In due course of time the child was born, a boy. "

Saint Hubert paused a moment and nodded towards the Sheik. "Even afterthe child's birth she refused to give any account of herself. In thatshe was as firm as a rock; in everything else she was the frailest, gentlest little creature imaginable. She was very small and slender, with quantities of soft dark hair and beautiful great dark eyes thatlooked like a frightened fawn's. I have heard my father describe hermany times, and I have seen the water-colour sketch he made of her--hewas quite an amateur. Ahmed has it locked away somewhere. She nearlydied when the baby was born, and she never recovered her strength. Shemade no complaint and never spoke of herself, and seemed quite contentas long as the child was with her. She was a child herself in a greatnumber of ways. It never seemed to occur to her that there was anythingodd in her continued residence in the Sheik's camp. She had a tent andservants of her own, and the headman's wife was devoted to her. So werethe rest of the camp for that matter. There was an element of themysterious in her advent that had taken hold of the superstitiousArabs, and the baby was looked upon as something more than human andwas adored by all the tribe. The Sheik himself, who had never lookedtwice at a woman before in his life, became passionately attached toher. My father says that he has never seen a man so madly in love asAhmed Ben Hassan was with the strange white girl who had come so oddlyinto his life. He repeatedly implored her to marry him, and even myfather, who has a horror of mixed marriages, was impelled to admit thatany woman might have been happy with Ahmed Ben Hassan. She would notconsent, though she would give no reason for her refusal, and themystery that surrounded her remained as insolvable during the two yearsthat she lived after the baby's birth as it had been on the day of herarrival. And her refusal made no difference with the Sheik. Hisdevotion was wonderful. When she died my father was again visiting thecamp. She knew that she was dying, and a few days before the end shetold them her pitiful little history. She was the only daughter of oneof the oldest noble houses in Spain, as poor as they were noble, andshe had been married when she was seventeen to Lord Glencaryll, who hadseen her with her parents in Nice. She had been married without anyregard to her own wishes, and though she grew to love her husband shewas always afraid of him. He had a terrible temper that was very easilyroused, and, in those days, he also periodically drank a great dealmore than was good for him, and when under the influence of drinkbehaved more like a devil than a man. She was very young and_gauche_, failing often to do what was required of her from merenervousness. He was exigent and made no allowance for her youth andinexperience, and her life was one long torture. And yet in spite of itall she loved him. Even in speaking of it she insisted that the faultwas hers, that the trouble was due to her stupidity, glossing over hisbrutality; in fact, it was not from her, but from inquiries that hemade after her death, that my father learned most of what her life hadbeen. It seems that Lord Glencaryll had taken her to Algiers and hadwished to make a trip into the desert. He had been drinking heavily, and she did not dare to upset his plans by refusing to go with him oreven by telling him how soon her child was going to be born. So shewent with him, and one night something happened--what she would notsay, but my father says he has never seen such a look of terror on anywoman's face as she hurried over that part of her story. Whatever itwas she waited until the camp was asleep and then slipped out into thedesert, mad with fear, with no thought beyond a blind instinct offlight that drove her panic-stricken to face any danger rather thanremain and undergo the misery she was flying from. She rememberedhurrying onward, terrified by every sound and every shadow, frightenedeven by the blazing stars that seemed to be watching her and pointingout the way she had taken, until her mind was numb from utter wearinessand she remembered nothing more until she awoke in the headman's tent. She had been afraid to say who she was lest she should be sent back toher husband. And with the birth of the child she became more than everdetermined to preserve her secret. The boy should be spared thesuffering she had herself endured, he should not be allowed to fallinto the hands of his father to be at his mercy when the periodicaldrinking fits made him a very fiend of cruelty. She made my father andthe Sheik swear that not until the boy grew to manhood should LordGlencaryll be told of his existence. She wrote a letter for her husbandwhich she gave into my father's keeping, together with her weddingring, which had an inscription inside of it, and a miniature ofGlencaryll which she had worn always hidden away from sight. She wasvery contrite with the Sheik, begging his forgiveness for the sorrowshe had caused him and for keeping from his knowledge the fact that shewas not free. She loved her husband loyally to the end, but the lastfew days that she lived the Sheik's devotion seemed to wake ananswering tenderness in her heart. She was happiest when he was withher, and she died in his arms with his kisses on her lips. She left herboy in his keeping, and Ahmed Ben Hassan adopted him formally and madehim his heir, giving him his own name--the hereditary name that theSheik of the tribe has borne for generations. His word was law amongsthis people, and there was no thought of any opposition to his wishes;further, the child was considered lucky, and his choice of successorwas received with unanimous delight. All the passionate love that theSheik had for the mother was transferred to the son. He idolised him, and the boy grew up believing that Ahmed Ben Hassan was his own father. With the traits he had inherited from his mother's people and with hisdesert upbringing he looked, as he does now, pure Arab. When he wasfifteen my father induced the Sheik to send him to Paris to beeducated. With his own European tendencies the Sheik had wished italso, but he could not bring himself to part with the boy before, andit was a tremendous wrench to let him go when he did. It was then thatI first saw him. I was eighteen at the time, and had just begun mymilitary training, but as my regiment was stationed in Paris I was ableto be at home a good deal. He was such a handsome, high-spirited lad. Men mature very young in the desert and in many ways he was a greatdeal older than I was, in spite of my three years' seniority. But, ofcourse, in other ways he was a perfect child. He had a fiendish temperand resented any check on his natural lawless inclinations. He loathedthe restrictions that had to be put upon him and he hated the restraintof town life. He had been accustomed to having his own way in nearlyeverything, and to the constant adulation of the tribesmen, and he wasnot prepared to give to anybody else the obedience that he gavewillingly to the Sheik. There were some very stormy times, and I neveradmired my father in anything so much as his handling of that youngsavage. His escapades were nerve-racking and his _beaux yeux_ ledhim into endless scrapes. The only threat that reduced him to order wasthat of sending him home to the Sheik in disgrace. He would promiseamendment and take himself off to the Bois to work off his superfluousenergy on my father's horses--until he broke out again. But in spite ofhis temper and his _diableries_ he was very lovable and everybodyliked him. 

"After a year with us in Paris my father, always mindful of his realnationality, sent him for two years to a tutor in England, where I hadmyself been. The tutor was an exceptional man, used to dealing withexceptional boys, and Ahmed did very well with him. I don't mean thathe did much work--that he evaded skilfully and spent most of his timehunting and shooting. The only thing that he studied at all seriouslywas veterinary surgery, which he knew would be useful to him with hisown horses, and in which his tutor was level-headed enough to encouragehim. Then at the end of two years he came back to us for another year. He had gone to the desert every summer for his holidays, and on eachoccasion the Sheik let him return with greater reluctance. He wasalways afraid that the call of civilisation would be too much for hisadopted son, especially as he grew older, but although Ahmed hadchanged very much from the wild desert lad who had first come to us, and had developed into a polished man of the world, speaking French andEnglish as fluently as Arabic, with plenty of means to amuse himself inany way that he wished--for the Sheik was very rich and kept himlavishly supplied with money--and though in that last year he was withus he was courted and feted in a way that would have turned mostpeople's heads, he was always secretly longing for the time whenhe would go back to the desert. It was the desert, not civilisationthat called loudest to him. He loved the life and he adored the manwhom he thought was his father. To be the son and heir of Ahmed BenHassan seemed to him to be the highest pinnacle that any man's ambitioncould reach. He was perfectly indifferent to the flattery and attentionthat his money and his good looks brought him. My father entertainedvery largely and Ahmed became the fashion--'_Le bel Arabe_' hewas called, and he enjoyed a _succes fou_ which bored him toextinction--and at the end of the year, having written to the Sheik forpermission to go home, he shook the dust of Paris off his feet and wentback to the desert. I went with him. It was my first visit and thefirst time that I had experienced Ahmed _en prince_. I had neverseen him in anything but European clothes, and I got quite a shock whenI came up on deck the morning that we arrived at Oran and found an Arabof the Arabs waiting for me. The robes and a complete change ofcarriage and expression that seemed to go with them altered himcuriously and I hardly recognised him. Some of his men were waiting forhim on the quay and their excitement was extraordinary. I realised fromthe deference and attention that the French officials paid to Ahmed theposition that the old Sheik had made for himself and the high esteem inwhich he was held. We spent the rest of the day in arranging for theconsiderable baggage that he had brought with him to be forwarded bythe camel caravan that had been sent for the purpose, and also inbusiness for the Sheik in Oran. We spent the night in a villa on theoutskirts of the town belonging to an old Arab who entertained uslavishly, and who spent the evening congratulating Ahmed heartily onhaving escaped from the clutches of the odious French, by no meansabashed when Ahmed pointed out that there was an odious Frenchmanpresent, for he dismissed me with a gesture that conveyed that mynationality was my misfortune and not my fault, and in impressing onhim the necessity of immediately acquiring a wife or two and settlingdown for the good of the tribe--all this in the intervals of drinkingcoffee, listening to the most monotonous native music and watchingbarbaric dances. There was one particularly well-made dancing girl thatthe old man tried to induce Ahmed to buy, and he made a show ofbargaining for her--not from any real interest he took in her, butmerely to see the effect that it would have on me. But I refused to bedrawn, and as my head was reeling with the atmosphere I escaped to bedand left him still bargaining. We started early next morning, and werejoined a few miles out of the town by a big detachment of followers. The excitement of the day before was repeated on a very much largerscale. It was a novel experience for me, and I can hardly describe myfeelings in the midst of that yelling horde of men, galloping wildlyround us and firing their rifles until it seemed hardly possible thatsome accident would not happen. It was Ahmed's attitude that impressedme most. He took it all quietly as his due, and when he had had enoughof it stopped it with a peremptory authority that was instantly obeyed, and apologised for the exuberant behaviour of his children. It was anew Ahmed to me; the boy I had known for four years seemed suddenlytransformed into a man who made me feel very young. In France I hadnaturally always rather played elder brother, but here Ahmed was on hisown ground and the roles seemed likely to be reversed. The arrival atthe Sheik's camp was everything that the most lavish scenic producercould have wished. Though I had heard of it both from my father andAhmed I was not quite prepared for the splendour with which the Sheiksurrounded himself. With Eastern luxury was mingled many Europeanadjuncts that added much to the comfort of camp life. The meetingbetween the Sheik and Ahmed was most touching. I had a very happy timeand left with regret. The charm of the desert took hold of me then andhas never left me since. But I had to return to my medical studies. Ileft Ahmed absorbed in his life and happier than I had ever seen him inParis. He was nineteen then, and when he was twenty-one my father hadthe unpleasant task of carrying out Lady Glencaryll's dying wishes. Hewrote to Lord Glencaryll asking him to come to Paris on businessconnected with his late wife, and, during the course of a very painfulinterview, put the whole facts before him. With the letter that thepoor girl had written to her husband, with the wedding-ring and thelocket, together with the sketch that my father had made of her, theproofs of the genuineness of the whole affair were conclusive. Glencaryll broke down completely. He admitted that his wife had everyjustification for leaving him, he spared himself nothing. He referredquite frankly to the curse of which he had been the slave and which hadmade him irresponsible for his actions when he was under its influence. He had never known himself what had happened that terrible night, butthe tragedy of his wife's disappearance had cured him. He had madeevery effort to find her and it was many years before he gave up allhope. He mourned her bitterly, and worshipped her memory. It wasimpossible not to pity him, for he had expiated his fault with agonythat few men can have experienced. The thought that he had a son andthat son her child almost overwhelmed him. He had ardently desired anheir, and, thinking himself childless, the fact that his title and hisold name, of which he was very proud, would die with him had been agreat grief. His happiness in the knowledge of Ahmed's existence waspathetic, he was consumed with impatience for his son's arrival. Nothing had been said to Ahmed in case Lord Glencaryll should provedifficult to convince and thereby complicate matters, but his readyacceptance of the affair and his eagerness to see his son made furtherdelay unnecessary, and my father sent for Ahmed. The old Sheik let himgo in ignorance of what was coming. He had always dreaded the time whenhis adopted son would have to be told of his real parentage, fearful oflosing him, jealous of sharing his affection and resenting anybody'sclaim to him over his own. And so, with the only instance he ever gaveof want of moral courage, he sent Ahmed to Paris with no explanation, and left to my father the task of breaking to him the news. I shallnever forget that day. It had been arranged that Ahmed should be toldfirst and that afterwards father and son should meet. Ahmed arrived inthe morning in time for _dejeuner_, and afterwards we went to myfather's study, and there he told him the whole story as gently and ascarefully as he could. Ahmed was standing by the window. He never saida word the whole time my father was speaking, and when he finished hestood quite still for a few moments, his face almost grey under thedeep tan, his eyes fixed passionately on my father's--and then hisfiendish temper broke out suddenly. It was a terrible scene. He cursedhis father in a steady stream of mingled Arabic and French blasphemythat made one's blood run cold. He cursed all English peopleimpartially. He cursed my father because he had dared to send him toEngland. He cursed me because I had been a party to the affair. Theonly person whom he spared was the Sheik; who after all was as muchimplicated as we were, but he never once mentioned him. He refused tosee his father, refused to recognise that he was his father, and heleft the house that afternoon and Paris that night, going straight backto the desert, taking with him Gaston, who had arranged some timebefore to enter his service as soon as his time in the cavalry was up. A letter that Lord Glencaryll wrote to him, addressed to ViscountCaryll, which is, of course, his courtesy title, begging for at leastan interview, and which he gave to us to forward, was returnedunopened, and scrawled across the envelope: _'Inconnu. _ Ahmed BenHassan. ' And since that day his hatred of the English had been amonomania, and he has never spoken a word of English. Later on, when weused to travel together, his obvious avoidance of English people was attimes both awkward and embarrassing, and I have often had to go throughthe farce of translating into French or Arabic remarks made to him byEnglish fellow-travellers, that is, when he condescended to notice theremarks, which was not often. From the day he learned the truth abouthimself for two years we saw nothing of him. Then the old Sheik askedus to visit him. We went with some misgivings as to what Ahmed'sreception of us would be, but he met us as if nothing had happened. Heignored the whole episode and has never referred to it. It is a closedincident. The Sheik warned us that Ahmed had told him that anyreference to it would mean the breaking off of all relations with us. But Ahmed himself had changed indescribably. All the lovable qualitiesthat had made him so popular in Paris were gone, and he had become thecruel, merciless man he has been ever since. The only love left in himwas given to his adopted father, whom he worshipped. Later I wasallowed back on the old footing, and he has always been good to Gaston, but with those three exceptions he has spared nobody and nothing. He ismy friend, I love him, and I am not telling you more than you knowalready. "

Saint Hubert broke off and looked anxiously at Diana, but she did notmove or meet his gaze. She was sitting with her hand still clasped overthe Sheik's and the other one shading her face, and the Vicomte went onspeaking: "It is so easy to judge, so difficult to understand anotherperson's temptations. Ahmed's position has always been a curious one. He has had unique temptations with always the means of gratifyingthem. "

There was a longer pause, but still Diana did not move or speak. 

"The curse of Ishmael had taken hold of me by then and I wanderedcontinually. Sometimes Ahmed came with me; we have shot big gametogether in most parts of the globe. A few times he stayed with us inParis, but never for long; he always wearied to get back to the desert. Five years ago the old Sheik died; he was an exceptionally strong man, and should have lived for years but for an accident which crippled himhopelessly and from which he died a few months afterwards. Ahmed'sdevotion during his illness was wonderful. He never left him, and sincehe succeeded to the leadership of the tribe he has lived continuouslyamongst his people, absorbed in them and his horses, carrying on thetraditions handed down to him by his predecessor and devoting his lifeto the tribe. They are like children, excitable, passionate andheadstrong, and he has never dared to risk leaving them alone too long, particularly with the menace of Ibraheim Omair always in thebackground. He has never been able to seek relaxation further afieldthan Algiers or Oran----" Saint Hubert stopped abruptly, cursing himselffor a tactless fool. She could not fail to realise the significance ofthose visits to the gay, vicious little towns. The inference wasobvious. His thoughtless words would only add to her misery. Hersensitive mind would shrink from the contamination they implied. IfAhmed was going to die, she would be desolate enough without forcing onher knowledge the unworthiness of the man she loved. He pushed hischair back impatiently and went to the open doorway. He felt that shewanted to be alone. She watched him go, then slipped to her kneesbeside the couch. 

She had realised the meaning of Raoul's carelessly uttered words andthey had hurt her poignantly, but it was no new sorrow. He had told herhimself months ago, callously, brutally, sparing her nothing, extenuating nothing. She pressed her cheek against the hand she washolding. She did not blame him, she could only love him, no matter whathis life had been. It was Ahmed as he was she loved, his faults, hisvices were as much a part of him as his superb physique and thealternating moods that had been so hard to meet. She had never knownhim otherwise. He seemed to stand alone, outside the prescribedconventions that applied to ordinary men. The standards of common usagedid not appear compatible with the wild desert man who was his own lawand followed only his own precedent, defiant of social essentials andscornful of criticism. The proud, fierce nature and passionate temperthat he had inherited, the position of despotic leadership in which hehad been reared, the adulation of his followers and the savage life inthe desert, free from all restraint, had combined to produce thehaughty unconventionalism that would not submit to the ordinary rulesof life. She could not think of him as an Englishman. The mere accidentof his parentage was a factor that weighed nothing. He was and alwayswould be an Arab of the wilderness. If he lived! He _must_ live!He could not go out like that, his magnificent strength and fearlesscourage extinguished by a treacherous blow that had not dared to meethim face to face--in spite of the overwhelming numbers--but had struckhim down from behind, a coward stroke. He must live, even if his lifemeant death to her hopes of happiness; that was nothing compared withhis life. She loved him well enough to sacrifice anything for him. Ifhe only lived she could bear even to be put out of his life. It wasonly he that mattered, his life was everything. He was so young, sostrong, so made to live. He had so much to live for. He was essentialto his people. They needed him. If she could only die for him. In thedays when the world was young the gods were kind, they listened to theprayers of hapless lovers and accepted the life that was offered inplace of the beloved whose life was claimed. If God would but listen toher now. If He would but accept her life in exchange for his. If----!if----!

Her fingers crept up lightly across his breast, fearful lest even theirtender touch should injure his battered body, and she looked long andearnestly at him. His crisp brown hair was hidden by the bandages that, dead white against his tanned face, swathed his bruised head. Hisclosed eyes with the thick dark lashes curling on his cheek, hiding theusual fierce expression that gleamed in them, and the relaxation of thehard lines of his face made him look singularly young. That youthfullook had been noticeable often when he was asleep, and she had watchedit wondering what Ahmed the boy had been like before he grew into themerciless man at whose hands she had suffered so much. 

And now the knowledge of his boyhood seemed to make him even dearerthan he had been before. What sort of man would he have been if thelittle dark-eyed mother had lived to sway him with her gentleness? Poorlittle mother, helpless and fragile!--yet strong enough to save her boyfrom the danger that she feared for him, but paying the price of thatstrength with her life, content that her child was safe. 

Diana thought of her own mother dying in the arms of a husband whoadored her, and then of the little Spanish girl slipping away fromlife, a stranger in a strange land, her heart crying out for thehusband whom she still loved, turning in ignorance of his love forconsolation in the agony of death to the lover she had denied, andseeking comfort in his arms. A sudden jealousy of the two dead womenshook her. They had been loved. Why could not she be loved? Wherein didshe fail that he would not love her? Other men had loved her, and hislove was all she longed for in the world. To feel his arms around heronly once with love in their touch, to see his passionate eyes kindleonly once with the light she prayed for. She drew a long sobbingbreath. "Ahmed, _mon bel Arabe_, " she murmured yearningly. 

She rose to her feet. She was afraid of breaking down, of giving way tothe fear and anxiety that racked her. She turned instinctively to thehelp and sympathy that offered and went to Saint Hubert, joining himunder the awning. Usually at night the vicinity of the Sheik's tent wasavoided by the tribesmen, even the sentry on guard was posted at somelittle distance. Kopec curled up outside the doorway kept ample watch. But to-night the open space was swarming with men, some squatting onthe ground in circles, others clustered together in earnestconversation, and far off through the palm trees she caught anoccasional glimpse of mounted men. Yusef and the headmen acting underhim were taking no risks, there was to be no chance of a surpriseattack. 

"You must be very tired, Raoul, " she said, slipping her hand throughhis arm, for her need was almost as much for physical as mentalsupport. The frank touch of her hand sent a quiver through him, but hesuppressed it, and laid his own hand over her cold fingers. 

"I must not think of that yet. Later on, perhaps, I can rest a little. Henri can watch; he is almost as good a doctor as I am, theincomparable Henri! Ahmed and I have always quarrelled over therespective merits of our servants. "

He felt her hand tighten on his arm at the mention of the Sheik's nameand heard the smothered sigh that she choked back. They stood insilence for a while watching the shifting groups of tribesmen. A littleknot of low-voiced men near them opened up, and one of their numbercame to Saint Hubert with an inquiry. 

"The men are restless. " Raoul said when the Arab had gone back to hisfellows with all the consolation the Vicomte could give him. "Theirdevotion is very strong. Ahmed is a god to them. Their anxiety takesthem in a variety of ways. Yusef, who has been occupied with his dutiesmost of the day, has turned to religion for the first time in his life, he has gone to say his prayers with the pious Abdul, as he thinks thatAllah is more likely to listen if his petitions go heavenward incompany with the holy man's. "

Diana's thoughts strayed back to the story that Saint Hubert had toldher. "Does Lord Glencaryll know that you see Ahmed?" she asked. 

"Oh yes. He and my father became great friends. He often stays with usin Paris. We are a link between him and Ahmed. He is always hungry forany news of him, and still clings to the hope that one day he willrelent. He has never made any further effort to open up relations withhim because he knows it would be useless. If there is to be any_rapprochement_ between them it must come from Ahmed. They havealmost met accidentally once or twice, and Glencaryll has once seenhim. It was at the opera. He was staying in Paris for some months andhad a box. I had gone across from our own box on the other side of thehouse to speak to him. There were several people with him. I wasstanding beside him, talking. Ahmed had just come into our box oppositeand was standing right in the front looking over the theatre. Somethinghad annoyed him and he was scowling. The likeness was unmistakable. Glencaryll gave a kind of groan and staggered back against me. 'GoodGod! Who is that?' he said, and I don't think he knew he was speakingout loud. 

"A man next him looked in the direction he was looking and laughed. 'That's the Saint Huberts' wild man of the desert. Looks fierce, doesn't he? The women call him "_le bel Arabe_. " He certainlywears European clothes with better grace than most natives. He is saidto have a peculiar hatred of the English, so you'd better give him awide berth, Glencaryll, if you don't want to be bow-stringed or haveyour throat cut, or whatever fancy form of death the fellow cultivatesin his native habitat. Raoul can tell you all about him. '

"There was not any need for me to tell him. Fortunately the opera beganand the lights went down, and I persuaded him to go away before thething was over. "

Diana gave a little shiver. She felt a great sympathy coming over herfor the lonely old man, hoping against hope for the impossible, thatshe had not felt earlier in the evening. He, too, was wearing his heartout against the inflexible will of Ahmed Ben Hassan. 

She shivered again and turned back into the tent with Saint Hubert. They halted by the couch and stood for a long time in silence. ThenDiana slowly raised her head and looked up into Raoul's face, and heread the agonised question in her eyes. 

"I don't know, " he said gently. "All things are with Allah. "

CHAPTER X

The night grew hotter and the atmosphere more oppressive. Wrapped in athin silk kimono Diana lay very still on the outside of the wide couchin the inner room, propped high with pillows that the shaded light ofthe little reading-lamp beside her might fall on the book she held, butshe was not reading. 

It was Raoul's latest book, that he had brought with him, but she couldnot concentrate her mind on it, and it lay idle on her knee--while herthoughts were far away. It was three months since the night that SaintHubert had almost given up hope of being able to save the Sheik'slife--a night that had been followed by days of suspense that hadreduced Diana to a weary-eyed shadow of her former vigorous self, andhad left marks on Raoul that would never be effaced. But thanks to hisgreat strength and splendid constitution the Sheik had rallied andafter the first few weeks convalescence had been rapid. When theterrible fear that he might die was past it had been a wonderfulhappiness to wait on him. With the determination to live for themoment, to which she had forced herself, she had banished everythingfrom her mind but the joy of being near him and of being necessary tohim. It had been a very silent service, for he would lie for hours withclosed eyes without speaking, and something that she could not masterkept her tongue-tied in his presence when they were alone. Only once hehad referred to the raid. As she bent over him to do some small officehis fingers closed feebly round her wrist and his eyes, with asearching apprehension in them, looked into hers for the first timesince the night when she had fled from his curses. 

"Was it--in time?" he whispered slowly, and as she nodded with crimsoncheeks and lowered eyes he turned his head away without another word, but a shudder that he was too weak to control shook him. 

But the happiness of ministering to him passed very swiftly. As he grewstronger he managed so that she was rarely alone with him, and heinsisted on her riding twice every day, sometimes with Saint Hubert, sometimes with Henri, coolly avowing a preference for his own societyor that of Gaston, who was beginning to get about again. Later, too, hewas much occupied with headmen who came in from the different camps, and as the days passed she found herself more and more excluded fromthe intimacy that had been so precious. She was thrown much into thesociety of Raoul de Saint Hubert. All that they had gone throughtogether had drawn them very closely to each other, and Diana oftenwondered what her girlhood would have been like if it had been spentunder his guardianship instead of that of Sir Aubrey Mayo. The sisterlyaffection she had never given her own brother she gave to him, and, with the firm hold over himself that he had never again slackened, theVicomte accepted the role of elder brother which she unconsciouslyimposed on him. 

It was hard work sometimes, and there were days when he dreaded thedaily rides, when the strain seemed almost more than he could bear, andhe began to make tentative suggestions about resuming his wanderings, but always the Sheik pressed him to stay. 

Ahmed Ben Hassan's final recovery was quick, and the camp soon settleddown into normal conditions. The reinforcements were gone back to thedifferent camps from which they had been drawn. There was no furtherneed of them. Ibraheim Omair's tribe, with their leader dead, hadbroken up and scattered far to the south; there was no chief to keepthem together and no headman strong enough to draw them round a newchieftain, for Ibraheim had allowed no member of his tribe to attainany degree of wealth or power that might prove him a rival; so they hadsplit up into numerous small bands lacking cohesion. In fulfilling thevow made to his predecessor Ahmed Ben Hassan had cleared the desert ofa menace that had hung over it for many years. 

The relations between the Sheik and Saint Hubert had gone back to whatthey had been the night of Raoul's arrival, before his candid criticismhad roused the Sheik's temper and fired his jealousy. The recollectionof the miserable week that had preceded the raid had been wiped out inall that had followed it. No shadow could ever come between them againsince Raoul had voluntarily stood on one side and sacrificed his ownchance of happiness for his friend's. 

And with the Sheik's complete recovery his attitude towards Diana hadreverted to the cold reserve that had chilled her before--a reservethat was as courteous as it was indifferent. He had avoided her as muchas had been possible, and the continual presence of Saint Hubert hadbeen a barrier between them. Unostensibly but effectually he hadcontrived that Raoul should never leave them alone. Though he includedher in the general conversation he rarely spoke to her directly, andoften she found him looking at her with his fierce eyes filled with anexpression that baffled her, and as each time the quick blood rushedinto her face his forehead drew together in the heavy frown that was socharacteristic. During meals it was Raoul that kept the conversationfrom lapsing with ready tact and an eloquent flow of words, rangingover many subjects. In the evening the men became immersed in theprojection of Saint Hubert's new book, for details of which he wasdrawing on the Sheik's knowledge, and long after Diana left them shecould hear the two voices, both deep and musical, but Raoul's quickerand more emphatic, continuously rising and falling, till at last Raoulwould go to his own tent and Gaston would come--noiseless andsoft-toned as his master. Ordinarily the Sheik dispensed with him atnight, but since his wound, the valet, as soon as he had himselfrecovered, had always been in attendance. Some nights he lingeredtalking, and others the Sheik dismissed him in a few minutes with onlya curt word or two, and then there would be silence, and Diana wouldbury her face in her pillow and writhe in her desperate loneliness, sick with longing for the strong arms she had once dreaded and thekisses she had once loathed. He had slept in the outer room since hisillness, and tossing feverishly on the soft cushions of the big emptybed in which she lay alone Diana had suffered the greatest humiliationshe had yet experienced. He had never loved her, but now he did noteven want her. She was useless to him. She was less than nothing tohim. He had no need of her. She would lie awake listening wearily tothe tiny chimes of the little clock with the bitter sense of herneedlessness crushing her. She was humbled to the very dust by hisindifference. The hours of loneliness in the room that was redolentwith associations of him were filled with memories that tortured her. In her fitful sleep her dreams were agonies from which she awakenedwith shaking limbs and shuddering breath, and waking, her hand wouldstretch out groping to him till remembrance came with cruel vividness. 

In the daytime, too, she had been much alone, for as soon as the Sheikwas strong enough to sit in the saddle the two men had ridden farafield every day, visiting the outlying camps and drawing into AhmedBen Hassan's own hands again the affairs that had had to be relegatedto the headmen. 

At last Raoul had announced that his visit could be protracted nolonger and that he must resume his journey to Morocco. He was going upto Oran and from there to Tangier by coasting steamer, collecting atTangier a caravan for his expedition through Morocco. His decision oncemade he had speeded every means of getting away with a despatch thathad almost suggested flight. 

To Diana his going meant the hastening of a crisis that could not beput off much longer. The situation was becoming impossible. She hadsaid good-bye to him the night before. She had never guessed the loveshe had inspired in him, and she wondered at the sadness in his eyesand his unaccustomed lack of words. He had wanted to say so much and hehad said so little. She must never guess and Ahmed must never guess, sohe played the game to the end. Only that night after she had left themthe voices sounded in the adjoining room for a very short time. Andthis morning he and Ahmed Ben Hassan had ridden away at daybreak. Shehad not been asleep; she had heard them go, and almost she wished Raoulback, for with his presence the vague fear that assailed her seemedfurther away. The camp had seemed very lonely and the day very long. 

She had ridden with Gaston, and hurried over her solitary dinner, andsince then she had been waiting for the Sheik to come back. In whatmood would he come? Since Raoul's announcement of his departure he hadbeen more than usually taciturn and reserved. The book she held slippedat length on to the floor, and she let it he unheeded. The usualstillness of the desert seemed to-night unusually still-sinistereven--and the silence was so intense that the sudden squeal of astallion a little distance away made her start with madly racing heartEarlier in the evening a tom-tom had been going persistently in themen's lines, and later a native pipe had shrilled thinly in monotonouscadence; but she had grown accustomed to these sounds; they were ofnightly occurrence and they soothed rather than irritated her, and whenthey stopped the quiet had become intensified to such a degree that shewould have welcomed any sound. To-night her nerves were on edge. She wasrestless and excited, and her thoughts were chaos. 

She was alone again at his mercy. What would his attitude be? Her handsclenched on her knees. At times she lay almost without breathing, straining to hear the faintest sound that would mean his return, andthen again lest she should hear what she listened for. She longed forhim passionately, and at the same time she was afraid, He had changedso much that there were moments when she had the curious feeling thatit was a stranger who was coming back to her, and she both dreaded hiscoming and yearned for it with a singular combination of emotions. Shelooked round the room where she had at once suffered so much and beenso happy with troubled eyes. She had never been nervous before, butto-night her imagination ran riot. There was electricity in the airwhich acted on her overstrung nerves. The little shaded lamp threw acircle of light round the bed, but left the rest of the room dim, andthe dusky corners seemed full of odd new shadows that came and wentillusively. Hangings and objects that were commonly familiar to hertook on fantastic shapes that she watched nervously, till at last shebrushed her hand across her eyes with a laugh of angry impatience. Wasthe love that had changed her so completely also making her a coward?Had even her common-sense been lost in the one great emotion that heldher? She understood perfectly the change that had taken place in her. She had never had any illusions about herself, and had never attemptedto curb the obstinate self-will and haughty pride that hadcharacterized her. She thought of it curiously, her mind going backover the last few months that had changed her whole life. The last madfreak for which she had paid so dearly had been the outcome of anarrogant determination to have her own way in the face of all protestsand advice. And with a greater arrogance and a determination strongerthan her own Ahmed Ben Hassan had tamed her as he tamed the magnificenthorses that he rode. He had been brutal and merciless, using no halfmeasures, forcing her to obedience by sheer strength of will andcompelling a complete submission. She thought of how she had feared andhated him with passionate intensity, until the hatred had been swampedby love as passionate and as intense. She did not know why she lovedhim, she had never been able to analyse the passion that held her sostrongly, but she knew deep down in her heart that it went now far pasthis mere physical beauty and superb animal strength. She loved himblindly with a love that had killed her pride and brought her to hisfeet humbly obedient. All the love that had lain dormant in her heartfor years was given to him. Body and soul she belonged to him. And thechange within her was patent in her face, the haughty expression in hereyes had turned to a tender wistfulness, with a curious gleam ofexpectancy that flickered in them perpetually; the little mutinousmouth had lost the scornful curve. And with the complete change in herexpression she was far more beautiful now than she had ever been. Butwith her love was the fear of him that she had learned during the firsthours of her captivity, the physical fear that she had never lost, evenduring the happy weeks that had preceded the coming of Saint Hubert, and the greater fear that was with her always, and that at times droveher, with wide-stricken eyes, wildly to pace the tent as if to escapethe shadow that hung over her--the fear of the time when he should tireof her. The thought racked her, and now, as always, she tried to put itfrom her, but it continued, persistently haunting her like a grimspectre. Always the same thought tortured her--he had not taken her forlove. No higher motive than a passing fancy had stirred him. He hadseen her, had wished for her and had taken her, and once in his powerit had amused him to break her to his hand. She realised all that. Andhe had been honest, he had never pretended to love her. Often when thehumour took him he could be gentle, as in those last few weeks, butgentleness was not love, and she had never seen the light that shelonged for kindle in his eyes. His caresses had been passionate orcareless with his mood. She did not know that he loved her. She had notbeen with him during the long hours of his delirium and she had notheard what Raoul de Saint Hubert had heard. And since his recovery hisattitude of aloofness had augmented her fear. There seemed only oneconstruction to put on his silence, and his studied and obviousavoidance of her. The passing fancy had passed. It was as if thefleeting passion he had had for her had been drained from him with theblood that flowed from the terrible wound he had received. He was tiredof her and seeking for a means to disembarrass himself of her. Vaguelyshe felt that she had known this for weeks, but to-night was the firsttime that she had had courage to be frank with herself. It must be so. Everything pointed to it; the curious expression she had seen in hiseyes and his constant heavy frown all confirmed it. She flung her armacross her eyes with a little moan. He was tired of her and the bottomhad fallen out of her world. The instinct to fight for his love thathad been so strong in her the day that Ibraheim Omair had captured herhad died with the death of all her hopes. Her spirit was broken. Sheknew that her will was helpless against his, and with a fatalism thatshe had learned in the desert she accepted the inevitable with acrushed feeling of hopelessness. 

She wondered numbly what would become of her. It did not seem to mattermuch. Nothing mattered now that he did not want her any more. The oldlife was far away, in another world. She could never go back to it. Shedid not care. It was nothing to her. It was only here in the desert, inAhmed Ben Hassan's arms, that she had become alive, that she hadlearned what life really meant, that she had waked both to happinessand sorrow. 

The future stretched out blank and menacing before her, but she turnedfrom it with a great sob of despair. It was on him that her thoughtswere fixed. How would life be endurable without him? Dully she wonderedwhy she did not hate him for having done to her what he had done, forhaving made her what she was. But nothing that he could do could killthe love now that he had inspired. And she would never regret. Shewould always have the memory of the fleeting happiness that had beenhers--in after years that memory would be all that she would have tolive for. Even in her heart she did not reproach him, there was nobitterness in her misery. She had always known that it would come, though she had fenced with it, shutting it out of her mind resolutely. He had never led her to expect anything else. There was no link tobring them closer together, no bond between them. If she could have hadthe promise of a child. Alone though she was the sensitive colourflamed into her cheeks, and she hid her face in the pillows with aquivering sob. A child that would be his and hers, a child--a boy withthe same passionate dark eyes, the same crisp brown hair, the samegraceful body, who would grow up as tall and strong, as brave andfearless as his father. Surely he must love her then. Surely the memoryof his own mother's tragic history would make him merciful to themother of his son. But she had no hope of that mercy. She lay shakingwith passionate yearning and the storm of bitter tears that swept overher, hungry for the clasp of his arms, faint with longing. The pent-upmisery of weeks that she had crushed down surged over. There was nobodyto hear the agonising sobs that shook her from head to foot. She couldrelax the control that she had put upon herself and which had seemed tobe slowly turning her to stone. She could give way to the emotion that, suppressed, had welled up choking in her throat and gripped herforehead like red-hot bands eating into her brain. Tears were not easyto her. She had not wept since that first night when, with the fear ofworse than death, she had grovelled at his feet, moaning for mercy. Shehad not wept during the terrible hours she was in the power of IbraheimOmair, nor during the days that Raoul de Saint Hubert had fought forhis friend's life. But to-night the tears that all her life she haddespised would not be denied. Tortured with conflicting emotions, unsatisfied love, fear and uncertainty, utterly unnerved, she gaveherself up at last to the feelings she could no longer restrain. Proneon the wide bed, her face buried in the pillows, her hands clutchingconvulsively at the silken coverings, she wept until she had no moretears, until the anguished, sobs died away into silence and she layquiet, exhausted. 

She wrestled with herself. The weakness that she had given way to mustbe conquered. She knew that, without any possibility of doubt, hiscoming would seal her fate--whatever it was to be. She must wait untilthen. A long, shuddering sigh ran through her. "Ahmed! Ahmed BenHassan, " she murmured slowly, lingering with wistful tenderness on thewords. She pressed her face closer into the cushions, clasping herhands over her head, and for a long time lay very still. The heat wasintense and every moment the tent seemed to grow more airless. The roomwas stifling, and, with a little groan, Diana sat up, pushing the heavyhair oft her damp forehead, and covered her flushed face with herhands. A cicada began its shrill note close by, chirping with maddeningpersistency. Quite suddenly her mind was filled with thoughts of herown people, the old home in England, the family for whose honour herancestors had been so proudly jealous. Even Aubrey, lazy andself-indulgent as he was, prized the family honour as he prized nothingelse on earth; and now she, proud Diana Mayo, who had the history ofher race at her fingers' ends, who had gloried in the long line ofupright men and chaste women, had no thankfulness in her heart that inher degradation she had been spared a crowning shame. Beside her loveeverything dwindled into nothingness. He was her life, he filled herhorizon. Honour itself was lost in the absorbing passion of her love. He had stripped it from her and she was content that it should lie athis feet. He had made her nothing, she was his toy, his plaything, waiting to be thrown aside. She shuddered again and looked around thetent that she had shared with him with a bitter smile and sad, huntedeyes.... After her--who? The cruel thought persisted. She was torn witha mad, primitive jealousy, a longing to kill the unknown woman whowould inevitably succeed her, a desire that grew until a horror of herown feelings seized her, and she shrank down, clasping her hands overher ears to shut out the insidious voice that seemed actuallywhispering beside her. The Persian hound in the next room had whineduneasily from time to time, and now he pushed his way past the curtainand stalked across the thick rugs. He nuzzled his shaggy head againsther knee, whimpering unhappily, looking up into her face. And when shenoticed him he reared up and flung his long body across her lap, thrusting his wet nose into her face. She caught his head in her handsand rubbed her cheek against his rough hair, crooning over him softly. Even the dog was comfort in her loneliness, and they both waited fortheir master. 

She pushed him down at length, and with her hand on his collar wentinto the other room. A solitary lamp burned dimly. She crossed to thedoorway and pulled aside the flap, and a small, white-clad figure roseup before her. 

"Is that you, Gaston?" she asked involuntarily, though she knew thatthe question was unnecessary, for he always slept across the entranceto the tent when the Sheik was away. 

"_A votre service, Madame_. "

For a few minutes she did not speak, and Gaston stood silent besideher. She might have remembered that he was there. He never stirred farbeyond the sound of her voice whenever she was alone in the camp. Hewas always waiting, unobtrusive, quick to carry out her requests, evento anticipate them. With him standing beside her she thought of thetime when they had fought side by side--all difference in rank eclipsedin their common danger. The servant had been merged into the man, and aman who had the courage to do what he had attempted when he had facedher at what had seemed the last moment with his revolver clenched in ahand that had not shaken, a man at whose side and by whose hand shewould have been proud to die. They were men, these desert dwellers, master and servants alike; men who endured, men who did things, inuredto hardships, imbued with magnificent courage, splendid healthyanimals. There was nothing effete or decadent about the men with whomAhmed Ben Hassan surrounded himself. 

Diana had always liked Gaston; she had been touched by his unvaryingrespectful attitude that had never by a single word or look conveyedthe impression that he was aware of her real position in his master'scamp. He treated her as if she were indeed what from the bottom of herheart she wished she was. He was solicitous without being officious, familiar with no trace of impertinence, He was Diana's first experienceof a class of servant that still lingers in France, a survival ofpre-Revolution days, who identify themselves entirely with the familythey serve, and in Gaston's case this interest in his master had beenstrengthened by experiences shared and dangers faced which had boundthem together with a tie that could never be broken and had raisedtheir relations on to a higher plane than that of mere master and man. Those relations had at first been a source of perpetual wonder toDiana, brought up in the rigid atmosphere of her brother'sestablishment, where Aubrey's egoism gave no opportunity for anythingbut conventional service, and in their wanderings, where personalservants had to be often changed. Even Stephens was, in Aubrey's eyes, a mere machine. 

Very soon after she had been brought to Ahmed Ben Hassan's camp she hadrealised that Gaston's devotion to the Sheik had been extended toherself, but since the night of the raid he had frankly worshipped her. 

It was very airless even out-of-doors. She peered into the darkness, but there was little light from the tiny crescent moon, and she couldsee nothing. She moved a few steps forward from under the awning tolook up at the brilliant stars twinkling overhead. She had watched themso often from Ahmed Ben Hassan's arms; they had become an integral partof the passionate Oriental nights. He loved them, and when the mood wason him, watched them untiringly, teaching her to recognise them, andtelling her countless Arab legends connected with them, sitting underthe awning far info the night, till gradually his voice faded away fromher ears, and long after she was asleep he would sit on motionless, staring up into the heavens, smoking endless cigarettes. Would it begiven to her ever to watch them again sparkling against theblue-blackness of the sky, with the curve of his arm round her and thesteady beat of his heart under her cheek? A stab of pain went: throughher. Would anything ever be the same again? Everything had changedsince the coming of Raoul de Saint Hubert. A weary sigh broke from herlips. 

"Madam is tired?" a respectful voice murmured at her ear. 

Diana started. She had forgotten the valet. "It is so hot. The tent wasstifling, " she said evasively. 

Gaston's devotion was of a kind that sought practical demonstration. "_Madame veut du cafe?_" he suggested tentatively. It was hisuniversal panacea, but at the moment it sounded almost grotesque. 

Diana felt an hysterical desire to laugh which nearly turned intotears, but she checked herself. "No, it is too late. "

"In one little moment I will bring it, " Gaston urged persuasively, unwilling to give up his own gratification in serving her. 

"No, Gaston. It makes me nervous, " she said gently. 

Gaston heaved quite a tragic sigh. His own nerves were steel and hiscapacity for imbibing large quantities of black coffee at any hour ofthe day or night unlimited. 

"_Une limonade_?" he persisted hopefully. 

She let him bring the cool drink more for his pleasure than for herown. "Monseigneur is late, " she said slowly, straining her eyes againinto the darkness. 

"He will come, " replied Gaston confidently. "Kopec is restless, he isalways so when Monseigneur is coming. "

She looked down for a moment thoughtfully at the dim shape of the houndlying at the man's feet, and then with a last upward glance at thebright stars turned back into the tent. All her nervous fears hadvanished in speaking to Gaston, who was the embodiment of practicalcommon sense; earlier, when unreasoning terror had taken such a hold onher, she had forgotten that he was within call, faithful and devoted. She picked up the fallen book, and lying down again forced herself toread, but though her eyes followed the lines mechanically she did notsense what she was reading, and all the time her ears were strained tocatch the earliest sound of his coming. 

At last it came. Only a suggestion at first--a wave of thought caughtby her waiting brain, an instinctive intuition, and she started uptense with expectancy, her lips parted, her eyes wide, hardlybreathing, listening intently. And when he came it was with unexpectedsuddenness, for, in the darkness, the little band of horsemen wereinvisible until they were right on the camp, and the horses' hoofs madeno sound. The stir caused by his arrival died away quickly. For amoment there was a confusion of voices, a jingle of accoutrements, oneof the horses whinnied, and then in the ensuing silence she heard himcome into the tent. Her heart raced suffocatingly. There was a murmurof conversation, the Sheik's low voice and Gaston's quick animatedtones answering him, and then the servant hurried out. Acutelyconscious of every sound, she waited motionless, her hands gripping thesoft mattress until her fingers cramped, breathing in long, painfulgasps as she tried to stop the laboured beating of her heart. In spiteof the heat a sudden coldness crept over her, and she shiveredviolently from time to time. Her face was quite white, even her lipswere colourless and her eyes, fixed on the curtain which divided thetwo rooms, glittered feverishly. With her intimate knowledge everymovement in the adjoining room was as perceptible as if she had seenit. He was pacing up and down as he had paced on the night whenGaston's fate was hanging in the balance, as he always paced when hewas deliberating anything, and the scent of his cigarette filled herroom. Once he paused near the communicating curtain and her heart gavea wild leap, but after a moment he moved away. He stopped again at thefar end of the tent, and she knew from the faint metallic click that hewas loading his revolver. She heard him lay it down on the littlewriting-table, and then the steady tramping began once more. Hisrestlessness made her uneasy. He had been in the saddle since earlydawn. Saint Hubert had advised him to be careful for some weeks yet. Itwas imprudent not to rest when opportunity offered. He was so carelessof himself. She gave a quick, impatient sigh, and the tender light inher eyes deepened into an anxiety that was half maternal. In spite ofhis renewed strength and his laughing protests at Raoul's warnings, coupled with a physical demonstration on his less muscular friend thathad been very conclusive, she could never forget that she had seen himlying helpless as a child, too weak even to raise his hand. Nothingcould ever take the remembrance from her, and nothing could ever alterthe fact that in his weakness he had been dependent on her. She hadbeen necessary to him then. She had a moment's fierce pleasure in thethought, but it faded as suddenly as it had come. It had been anephemeral happiness. 

At last she heard the divan creak under his weight, but not untilGaston came back bringing his supper. As he ate he spoke, and his firstwords provoked an exclamation of dismay from the Frenchman, which washastily smothered with a murmured apology, and then Diana became awarethat others had come into the room. He spoke to each in turn, and sherecognised Yusef's clear, rather high-pitched voice arguing with thetaciturn head camelman, whose surly intonations and behaviour matchedthe bad-tempered animals to whom he was devoted, until a word fromAhmed Ben Hassan silenced them both. There were two more who receivedtheir orders with only a grunt of acquiescence. 

Presently they went out, but Yusef lingered, talking volubly, half inArabic, half in French, but lapsing more and more into the vernacularas he grew excited. Even in the midst of her trouble the thought of himsent a little smile to Diana's lips. She could picture him squattingbefore the Sheik, scented and immaculate, his fine eyes rolling, hisslim hands waving continually, his handsome face alight with boyishenthusiasm and worship. At last he, too, went, and only Gastonremained, busy with the _cafetiere_ that was his latest toy. Thearoma of the boiling coffee filled the tent. She could imagine theservant's deft fingers manipulating the fragile glass and silverappliance. She could hear the tinkle of the spoon as he moved the cup, the splash of the coffee as he poured it out, the faint sound of thecup being placed on the inlaid table. Why was Ahmed drinking Frenchcoffee when he always complained it kept him awake? At night he was inthe habit of taking the native preparation. Surely to-night he had needof sleep. It was the hardest day he had had since his illness. For afew moments longer Gaston moved about the outer room, and from thesound Diana guessed that he was collecting on to a tray the variousthings that had to be removed. Then his voice, louder than he hadspoken before:

_"Monseigneur desir d'autre chose?"_

The Sheik must have signed in the negative, for there was no audibleanswer. 

_"Bon soir, Monseigneur. "_

_"Bon soir, Gaston. "_

Diana drew a quick breath. While the man was still in the adjoiningroom the moment for which she was waiting seemed interminable. And nowshe wished he had not gone. He stood between her and--what? For thefirst time since the coming of Saint Hubert she was alone with him, really alone. Only a curtain separated them, a curtain that she couldnot pass. She longed to go to him, but she did not dare. She was pulledbetween love and fear, and for the moment fear was in the ascendant. She shivered, and a sob rose in her throat as the memory came to her ofanother night during those two months of happiness, that were fastbecoming like a wonderful dream, when he had ridden in late. AfterGaston left she had gone to him, flushed and bright-eyed with sleep, and he had pulled her down on to his knee, and made her share thenative coffee she detested, laughing boyishly at her face of disgust. And, holding her in his arms with her head on his shoulder, he had toldher all the incidents of the day's visit to one of the other camps, andfrom his men and his horses drifted almost insensibly into detailsconnected with his own plans for the future, which were really theintimate confidences of a husband to a wife who is also a comrade. Themingled pain and pleasure of the thought had made her shiver, and hehad started up, declaring that she was cold, and, lifting her till hischeek was resting on hers, carried her back into the other room. 

But what she had done then was impossible now. He seemed so utterlystrange, so different from the man whom she thought she had grown tounderstand. She was all at sea. She was desperately tired, her headaching and confused with the terrible problems of the future. She darednot think any more. She only wanted to lie in his arms and sob herheart out against his. She was starving for the touch of his hands, suffering horribly. 

She slid down on to her knees, burying her face in the couch. 

"Oh, God! Give me his love!" she kept whispering in agonised entreaty, until the recollection of the night, months before, when in the sameposture she had prayed that God's curse might fall on him, sent ashudder through her. 

"I didn't mean if, " she moaned. "Oh, clear God! I didn't mean it. Ididn't know.... Take it back. I didn't mean it. "

She choked down the sobs that rose, pressing her face closer into thesilken coverings. 

There was silence in the next room except for the striking of a matchthat came with monotonous regularity. And always the peculiar scent ofhis tobacco drifting in through the heavy curtains, forcing a hundredrecollections with the association of its perfume. Why didn't he cometo her? Did he know how he was torturing her? Was he so utterlyindifferent that he did not care what she suffered? Did he even thinkof her, to wonder if she suffered or not? The fear of the future rushedon her again with overwhelming force. The uncertainty was killing her. She raised her head and looked at the travelling clock beside thereading-lamp. It was an hour since Gaston had left him. Another hour ofwaiting would drive her mad. She must know what he was going to do. Shecould bear anything but this suspense. She had reached the limit of herendurance. She struggled to her feet, drawing the thin wrap closeraround her. But even then she stood irresolute, dreading the fulfillingof her fears; she had not the courage voluntarily to precipitate herfate. She clung to her fool's paradise. Her eyes were fixed on theclock, watching the hands drag slowly round the dial. A quarter of anhour crept past. It seemed the quarter of a lifetime, and Diana brushedher hand across her eyes to clear away the dazzling reflection of thestaring white china face with its long black minute hand. No sound ofany kind came now from the other room. The silence was driving herfrantic. She was desperate; she must know, nothing could be worse thanthe agony she was enduring. 

She set her teeth and, crossing the room, slipped noiselessly betweenthe curtains. Then she shrank back suddenly with her hands over hermouth. He was leaning forward on the divan, his elbows on his knees, his face hidden in his hands. And it was as a stranger that he had comeback to her, divested of the flowing robes that had seemed essentiallya part of him; an unfamiliar figure in silk shirt, riding breeches andhigh brown boots, still dust-covered from the long ride. A thin tweedcoat lay in a heap on the carpet--he must have flung it off afterGaston went, for the valet, with his innate tidiness, would never haveleft it lying on the floor. 

She looked at him hungrily, her eyes ranging slowly over the longlength of him and lingering on his bent head. The light from thehanging lamp shone on his thick brown hair burnishing it like bronze. She was shaking with a sudden new shyness, but love gave her courageand she went to him, her bare feet noiseless on the rugs. 

"Ahmed!" she whispered. 

He lifted his head slowly and looked at her, and the sight of his facesent her on to her knees beside him, her hands clutching the breast ofhis soft shirt. 

"Ahmed! What is it?... You are hurt--your wound----?" she cried, hervoice sharp with anxiety. 

He caught her groping hands, and rising, pulled her gently to her feet, his fingers clenched round hers, looking down at her strangely. Then heturned from her without a word, and wrenching open the flap of thetent, flung it back and stood in the open doorway staring out into theright. He looked oddly slender and tall silhouetted against thedarkness. A gleam of perplexity crept into her frightened eyes, and onehand went up to her throat. 

"What is it?" she whispered again breathlessly. 

"It is that we start for Oran to-morrow, " he replied. His voice soundeddull and curiously unlike, and with a little start Diana realised thathe was speaking in English. Her eyes closed and she swayed dizzily. 

"You are sending me away?" she gasped slowly. 

There was a pause before he answered. 

"Yes. "

The curt monosyllable lashed her like a whip. She reeled under it, panting and wild-eyed. "Why?"

He did not answer and the colour flamed suddenly into her face. Shewent closer to him, her breast heaving, trying to speak, but her throatwas parched and her lips shaking so that no words would come. 

"It is because you are tired of me?" she muttered at last hoarsely, "--as you told me you would tire, as you tired of--those other women?"Her voice died away with an accent of horror in it. 

Again he did not answer, but he winced, and his hands that were hangingat his sides clenched slowly. 

Diana flung one arm across her face to shut him out from her sight. Herheart was breaking, and she longed with a feeling of sick misery tocrawl to his feet, but a remnant of pride kept her back. 

He spoke at length in the same level, toneless voice. "I will take youto the first desert station outside of Oran, where you can join thetrain. For your own sake I must not be seen with you in Oran, as I amknown there. If you should by any chance be recognised or your identityshould leak out, you can say that for reasons of your own you extendedyour trip, that your messages miscarried, anything that occurs to you. But it is not at all likely to happen. There are many travellerspassing through Oran. Gaston can do all business and make allarrangements for you. He will take you to Marseilles, and if you needhim he will go with you to Paris, Cherbourg, or London--whichever youwish. As you know, you can trust him absolutely. When you do not needhim any longer, he will come back to me. I--I will not trouble you anymore. You need never be afraid that I will come into your life again. You can forget these months in the desert and the uncivilised Arab whocrossed your path. To keep out of your way is the only amends I canmake. "

She flung up her head. Quick, suspicious jealousy and love and pridecontending nearly choked her. "Why don't you speak the truth?" shecried wildly. "Why don't you say what you really mean?--that you haveno further use for me, that it amused you to take me and torture me tosatisfy your whim, but the whim is passed. It does not amuse you anylonger. You are tired of me and so you get rid of me with allprecautions. Do you think the truth can hurt me? Nothing that you cando can hurt me now. You made me the vile thing I am for your pleasure, and now for your pleasure you throw me on one side.... How many times ayear does Gaston take your discarded mistresses back to France?" Hervoice broke into a terrible laugh. 

He swung round swiftly and flung his arms about her, crushing her tohim savagely, forgetting his strength, his eyes blazing. "God! Do youthink it is easy to let you go, that you are taunting me like this? Doyou think I haven't suffered, that I'm not suffering now? Don't youknow that it is tearing my heart out by the roots to send you away? Mylife will be hell without you. Do you think I haven't realised what aninfinitely damned brute I've been? I didn't love you when I took you, Ionly wanted you to satisfy the beast in me. And I was glad that youwere English that I could make you suffer as an Englishman made mymother suffer, I so loathed the whole race. I have been mad all mylife, I think--up till now. I thought I didn't care until the night Iheard that Ibraheim Omair had got you, and then I knew that if anythinghappened to you the light of my life was out, and that I would onlywait to kill Ibraheim before I killed myself. "

His arms were like a vice hurting her, but they felt like heaven, andshe clung to him speechless, her heart throbbing wildly. He looked downlong and deeply into her eyes, and the light in his--the light that shehad longed for--made her tremble. His brown head bent lower and lower, and his lips had almost touched her when he drew back, and the love inhis eyes faded into misery. 

"I mustn't kiss you, " he said huskily, as he put her from him gently. "I don't think I should have the courage to let you go if I did. Ididn't mean to touch you. "

He turned from her with a little gesture of weariness. 

Fear fled back into her eyes. "I don't want to go, " she whisperedfaintly. 

He paused by the writing-table and took up the revolver he had loadedearlier, breaking it absently, spinning the magazine between his fingerand thumb, and replaced it before answering. 

"You don't understand. There is no other way, " he said dully. 

"If you really loved me you would not let me go, " she cried, with amiserable sob. 

"_If_ I loved you?" he echoed, with a hard laugh. "_If_ Iloved you! It is because I love you so much that I am able to do it. IfI loved you a little less I would let you stay and take your chance. "

She flung out her hands appealingly. "I want to stay, Ahmed! I loveyou!" she panted, desperate--for she knew his obstinate determination, and she saw her chance of happiness slipping away. 

He did not move or look at her, and his brows drew together in thedreaded heavy frown. "You don't know what you are saying. You don'tknow what it would mean, " he replied in a voice from which he hadforced all expression. "If you married me you would have to live alwayshere in the desert. I cannot leave my people, and I am--too much of anArab to let you go alone. It would be no life for you. You think youlove me now, though God knows how you can after what I have done toyou, but a time would come when you would find that your love for medid not compensate for your life here. And marriage with me isunthinkable. You know what I am and what I have been. You know that Iam not fit to live with, not fit to be near any decent woman. You knowwhat sort of a damnable life I have led; the memory of it would alwayscome between us--you would never forget, you would never trust me. Andif you could, of your charity, both forgive and forget, you know that Iam not easy to live with. You know my devilish temper--it has notspared you in the past, it might not spare you in the future. Do youthink that I could bear to see you year after year growing to hate memore? You think that I am cruel now, but I am thinking what is best foryou afterwards. Some day you will think of me a little kindly because Ihad the strength to let you go. You are so young, your life is only justbeginning. You are strong enough to put the memory of these last monthsout of your mind--to forget the past and live only for the future. Noone need ever know. There can be no fear for your--reputation. Thingsare forgotten in the silence of the desert. Mustafa Ali is many hundredsof miles away, but not so far that he would dare to talk. My own menneed not be considered, they speak or are silent as I wish. There isonly Raoul, and there is no question of him. He has not spared me hisopinion. You must go back to your own country, to your own people, toyour own life, in which I have no place or part, and soon all this willseem only like an ugly dream. "

The sweat was standing out on his forehead and his hands were clenchedwith the effort he was making, but her head was buried in her hands, and she did not see the torture in his face, she only heard his soft, low voice inexorably decreeing her fate and shutting her out fromhappiness in quiet almost indifferent tones. 

She shuddered convulsively. "Ahmed! I go!" she wailed. 

He looked up sharply, his face livid, and tore her hands from her face. "Good God! You don't mean--I haven't--You aren't----" he gasped hoarsely, looking down at her with a great fear in his eyes. 

She guessed what he meant and the color rushed into her face. Thetemptation to lie to him and let the consequences rest with the futurewas almost more than she could resist. One little word and she would bein his arms ... But afterwards----? It was the fear of the afterwardsthat kept her silent. The colour slowly drained from her face and sheshook her head mutely. 

He let go her wrists with a quick sigh of relief and wiped theperspiration from his face. Then he laid his hand on her shoulder andpushed her gently towards the inner room. For a moment she resisted, her wide, desperate eyes searching his, but he would not meet her look, and his mouth was set in the hard straight line she knew so well, andwith a cry she flung herself on his breast, her face hidden againsthim, her hands clinging round his neck. "Ahmed! Ahmed! You are killingme. I cannot live without you. I love you and I want you--only you. Iam not afraid of the loneliness of the desert, it is the loneliness ofthe world outside the shelter of your arms that I am afraid of. I amnot afraid of what you are or what you have been. I am not afraid ofwhat you might do to me. I never lived until you taught me what lifewas, here in the desert. I can't go back to the old life, Ahmed. Havepity on me. Don't shut me out from my only chance of happiness, don'tsend me away. I know you love me--I know! I know! And because I know Iam not ashamed to beg you to be merciful. I haven't any shame or prideleft. Ahmed! Speak to me! I can't bear your silence.... Oh! You arecruel, cruel!"

A spasm crossed his face, but his mouth set firmer and he disengagedher clinging hands with relentless fingers. "I have never been anythingelse, " he said bitterly, "but I am willing that you should think me abrute now rather than you should live to curse the day you ever saw me. I still think that your greater chance of happiness lies away from merather than with me, and for your ultimate happiness I am content tosacrifice everything. "

He dropped her hands and turned abruptly, going back to the doorway, looking out into the darkness. "It is very late. We must start early. Go and lie down, " he said gently, but it was an order in spite of thegentleness of his voice. 

She shrank back trembling, with piteous, stricken face and eyes filledwith a great despair. She knew him and she knew it was the end. Nothingwould break his resolution. She looked at him with quivering lipsthrough a mist of tears, looked at him with a desperate fixedness thatsought to memorise indelibly his beloved image in her heart. The dearhead so proudly poised on the broad shoulders, the long strong limbs, the slender, graceful body. He was all good to look upon. A man of men. Monseigneur! Monseigneur! _Mon maitre et seigneur. _ No! It wouldnever be that any more. A rush of tears blinded her and she steppedback uncertainly and stumbled against the little writing-table. Shecaught at it behind her to steady herself, and her fingers touched therevolver he had laid down. The contact of the cold metal sent a chillthat seemed to strike her heart. She stood rigid, with startled eyesfixed on the motionless figure in the doorway--one hand gripping theweapon tightly and the other clutching the silken wrap across herbreast. Her mind raced forward feverishly, there were only a few hoursleft before the morning, before the bitter moment when she must leavebehind her for ever the surroundings that had become so dear, that hadbeen her home as the old castle in England had never been. She thoughtof the long journey northward, the agonised protraction of her miseryriding beside him, the nightly camps when she would lie alone in thelittle travelling tent, and then the final parting at the waysidestation, when she would have to watch him wheel at the head of his menand ride out of her life, and she would strain her eyes through thedust and sand to catch the last glimpse of the upright figure on thespirited black horse. It would be The Hawk, she thought suddenly. Hehad ridden Shaitan to-day, and he always used one or other of the twofor long journeys. It was The Hawk he had ridden the day she had madeher bid for freedom and who had carried the double burden on the returnjourney when she had found her happiness. The contrast between thatride, when she had lain content in the curve of his strong arm, and theride that she would take the next day was poignant. She closed herteeth on her trembling lip, her fingers tightened on the stock of therevolver, and a wild light came into her sad eyes. She could never gothrough with it. To what end would be the hideous torture? What waslife without him?--Nothing and less than nothing. She could never giveherself to another man. She was necessary to no one. Aubrey had no realneed of her; his selfishness wrapped him around with a complacency thatabundantly satisfied him. One day, for the sake of the family he wouldmarry--perhaps was already married if he had been able to find a womanin America who would accept his egoism along with his old name andpossessions. Her life was her own to deal with. Nobody would be injuredby its termination. Aubrey, indeed, would benefit considerably. Andhe----? His figure was blurred through the tears that filled her eyes. 

Slowly she lifted the weapon clear of the table with steady fingers andbrought her hand stealthily from behind her. She looked at it for amoment dispassionately. She was not afraid. She was conscious only ofan overwhelming weariness, a longing for rest that should still thegnawing pain in her breast and the throbbing in her head.... A flashand it would be over, and all her sorrow would melt away.... But wouldit? A doubting fear of the hereafter rushed over her. What if sufferinglived beyond the border-line? But the fear went as suddenly as it hadcome, for with it came remembrance that in that shadowy world she wouldfind one who would understand--her own father, who had shot himself, mad with heartbroken despair, when her mother died in giving her birth. 

She lifted the revolver to her temple resolutely. 

There had been no sound to betray what was passing behind him, but theextra sense, the consciousness of imminent danger that was strong inthe desert-bred man, sprang into active force within the Sheik. Heturned like a flash and leaped across the space that separated them, catching her hand as she pressed the trigger, and the bullet spedharmlessly an inch above her head. With his face gone suddenly ghastlyhe wrenched the weapon from her and flung it far into the night. 

For a moment they stared into each other's eyes in silence, then, witha moan, she slipped from his grasp and fell at his feet in an agony ofterrible weeping. With a low exclamation he stooped and swept her upinto his arms, holding her slender, shaking figure with tenderstrength, pressing her head against him, his cheek on her red-goldcurls. 

"My God! child, don't cry so. I can bear anything but that, " he criedbrokenly. 

But the terrible sobs went on, and fearfully he caught her closer, straining her to him convulsively, raining kisses on her shining hair. "_Diane, Diane, _" he whispered imploringly, falling back into thesoft French that seemed so much more natural. "_Mon amour, mabien-aimee. Ne pleures pas, je t'en prie. Je t'aime, je t'adore. Turesteras pres de moi, tout a moi. _"

She seemed only half-conscious, unable to check the emotion that, unloosed, overwhelmed her. She lay inert against him, racked with thelong shuddering sobs that shook her. His firm mouth quivered as helooked down at his work. Gathering her up to his heart he carried herto the divan, and the weight of her soft slim body sent the bloodracing madly through his veins. He laid her down, and dropped on hisknees beside her, his arm wrapped round her, whispering words ofpassionate love. 

Gradually the terrible shuddering passed and the gasping sobs diedaway, and she lay still, so still and white that he was afraid. Hetried to rise to fetch some restorative, but at the first movement sheclung to him, pressing closer to him. "I don't want anything but you, "she murmured almost inaudibly. 

His arm tightened round her and he turned her face up to his. Her eyeswere closed and the wet lashes lay black against her pale cheek. Hislips touched them pitifully. 

"Diane, will you never look at me again?" His voice was almost humble. 

Her eyes quivered a moment and them opened slowly, looking up into hiswith a still-lingering fear in them. "You won't send me away?" shewhispered pleadingly, like a terrified child. 

A hard sob broke from him and he kissed her trembling lips fiercely. "Never!" he said sternly. "I will never let you go now. My God! If youknew how I wanted you. If you knew what it cost me to send you away. Pray God I keep you happy. You know the worst of me, poor child--youwill have a devil for a husband. "

The colour stole back slowly into her face and a little tremulous smilecurved her lips. She slid her arm up and round his neck, drawing hishead down. "I am not afraid, " she murmured slowly. "I am not afraid ofanything with your arms round me, my desert lover. Ahmed! Monseigneur!"

THE END