Diana's eyes never left the Sheik's face, she felt the old paralysing
fear of him rushing over her, irresistibly drowning for the moment even
the 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 that
was on his face now. It was a revelation of the real man with the thin
layer of civilisation stripped from him, leaving only the primitive
savage drunk with the lust of blood. And she was afraid, with a
shuddering horror, of the merciless, crimson-stained hands that would
touch her, of the smiling, cruel mouth that would be pressed on hers,
and of the murderous light shining in his fierce eyes. But for the
dying wretch expiating his crimes so hideously she felt no pity, he was
beyond all sympathy. She had seen him murder wantonly, and she knew
what her own fate would have been if Ahmed Ben Hassan had not come. And
the retribution was swift. The Sheik was being more merciful to him
than the robber chief had been to many, a few moments of agony instead
of hours of lingering torture.
The noise outside the tent was growing louder as the fighting rolled
back in its direction, and once or twice a bullet ripped through the
hangings. One that came closer than the others made Diana turn her head
and she saw what Ahmed Ben Hassan, absorbed in the fulfilment of his
horrible task, had not even thought of--the three big negroes and a
dozen Arabs who had stolen in silently from the inner room. For once,
in the intoxication of the moment, the Sheik was careless and caught
off his guard. Agony leaped into her eyes. The fear of him was wiped
out in the fear for him. She tried to warn him, but no sound would come
from her throbbing throat, and she crawled nearer to him and touched
him. He dropped the dead chief back into the tumbled cushions and
looked up swiftly, and at the same moment Ibraheim Omair's men made a
rush. Without a word he thrust her behind the divan and turned to meet
them. Before his revolver they gave way for a moment, but the burly
Nubians behind swept the Arabs forward. Three times he fired and one of
the negroes and two Arabs fell, but the rest hurled themselves on him,
and Diana saw him surrounded. His strength was abnormal, and for some
minutes the struggling mass of men strained and heaved about him. Diana
was on her feet, swaying giddily, powerless to help him, cold with
dread.