She looked down for a moment thoughtfully at the dim shape of the hound

lying at the man's feet, and then with a last upward glance at the

bright stars turned back into the tent. All her nervous fears had

vanished in speaking to Gaston, who was the embodiment of practical

common sense; earlier, when unreasoning terror had taken such a hold on

her, she had forgotten that he was within call, faithful and devoted.

She picked up the fallen book, and lying down again forced herself to

read, but though her eyes followed the lines mechanically she did not

sense what she was reading, and all the time her ears were strained to

catch the earliest sound of his coming.

Advertisement..

At last it came. Only a suggestion at first--a wave of thought caught

by her waiting brain, an instinctive intuition, and she started up

tense with expectancy, her lips parted, her eyes wide, hardly

breathing, listening intently. And when he came it was with unexpected

suddenness, for, in the darkness, the little band of horsemen were

invisible until they were right on the camp, and the horses' hoofs made

no sound. The stir caused by his arrival died away quickly. For a

moment there was a confusion of voices, a jingle of accoutrements, one

of the horses whinnied, and then in the ensuing silence she heard him

come into the tent. Her heart raced suffocatingly. There was a murmur

of conversation, the Sheik's low voice and Gaston's quick animated

tones answering him, and then the servant hurried out. Acutely

conscious of every sound, she waited motionless, her hands gripping the

soft mattress until her fingers cramped, breathing in long, painful

gasps as she tried to stop the laboured beating of her heart. In spite

of the heat a sudden coldness crept over her, and she shivered

violently from time to time. Her face was quite white, even her lips

were colourless and her eyes, fixed on the curtain which divided the

two rooms, glittered feverishly. With her intimate knowledge every

movement in the adjoining room was as perceptible as if she had seen

it.

He was pacing up and down as he had paced on the night when

Gaston's fate was hanging in the balance, as he always paced when he

was deliberating anything, and the scent of his cigarette filled her

room. Once he paused near the communicating curtain and her heart gave

a wild leap, but after a moment he moved away. He stopped again at the

far end of the tent, and she knew from the faint metallic click that he

was loading his revolver. She heard him lay it down on the little

writing-table, and then the steady tramping began once more. His

restlessness made her uneasy. He had been in the saddle since early

dawn. Saint Hubert had advised him to be careful for some weeks yet. It

was imprudent not to rest when opportunity offered. He was so careless

of himself. She gave a quick, impatient sigh, and the tender light in

her eyes deepened into an anxiety that was half maternal. In spite of

his renewed strength and his laughing protests at Raoul's warnings,

coupled with a physical demonstration on his less muscular friend that

had been very conclusive, she could never forget that she had seen him

lying helpless as a child, too weak even to raise his hand. Nothing

could ever take the remembrance from her, and nothing could ever alter

the fact that in his weakness he had been dependent on her. She had

been necessary to him then. She had a moment's fierce pleasure in the

thought, but it faded as suddenly as it had come. It had been an

ephemeral happiness.




Most Popular