He stood for several minutes listening, watching. He thought of a train travelling towards Luxor. Then he went quickly across the garden, and came to the terrace and Nigel.
The deep voice within him must be obeyed. He could resist it no longer.
"They're lively on the Loulia to-night," Nigel said, as he came up.
"Yes," Isaacson answered.
He stood while he lighted a cigar. Then he sat down near to his friend. The light from the drawing-room streamed out upon them from the open French window. The shrill sound of the pipes, the dull throbbing of the daraboukkeh, came to them from across the water.
"The whole vessel is lighted up," he added.
"Is she? Perhaps Baroudi has come up the river."
"Looks like it," said Isaacson.
He crossed, then uncrossed his legs. Never before had he felt himself to be a coward. He knew what he must do. He knew he would do it before Nigel and he went into the room behind them. Yet he could not force himself to begin. He thought, "When I've smoked out this cigar."
"You've never seen Baroudi," Nigel said. "He's one of the handsomest fellows I've ever clapped eyes on. As strong as a bull, I should think; enormously rich. A very good chap, too, I should say. But I don't fancy my wife liked him. He's hardly a woman's man."
"Why d'you think that?"
"I don't know. His manner, perhaps. And he doesn't seem to bother about them. But we only saw him about twice, except on the ship coming out. He dined here one night, and the next day we went over the Loulia with him, and we've never set eyes on him since. He went up river, and we went down, to the Fayyum."
"But--but you went off alone to the Fayyum, didn't you? At first, I mean?"
"Oh, yes. The morning after Baroudi had sailed for Armant."
"And Mrs. Armine was alone here for some time?"
"Yes. Just while I was getting things a little ship-shape for her. But we didn't have much luxury after all. However, she didn't mind that."
"Wasn't--don't you think it may have been rather dull for Mrs. Armine during that time?"
"Which time? D'you mean in the Fayyum?"
"I mean, while you were away in the Fayyum."
"I dare say it was. I expect it was. But why?"
"Well--"
Isaacson threw away his cigar.
"Not going to finish your cigar?" said Nigel.
He was evidently beginning to be surprised by his friend's words and manner.
"No," Isaacson said. "I don't want to smoke to-night; I want to talk. I must talk to you. You remember our conversation on the night of Mrs. Armine's departure?"