The Sheik

The loyalty that had hung trembling in the balance

reasserted itself and a self-disgust seized him. He had been within an

ace of betraying the man who had been for twenty years nearer to him

than a brother. She belonged to his friend, and now he had not even the

right to question the ethics of the Sheik's possession of her. The calm

that he had lost came back to him. The wound would heal though it might

always throb, but he was strong enough to hide its existence even from

the jealous eyes that had watched him ceaselessly since his outburst on

the night of his arrival. He had been conscious of them daily. Even

this morning the Sheik had made every effort short of a direct command

to induce him to go with him on the expedition that had taken him away

so early. Sure of himself now, he lifted her fingers to his lips again

reverently with a kind of renunciation in his kiss, and laid her hand

down gently. He turned away with a smothered sigh and a little pang at

her 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, her

face colourless, and her lips framed the word "Ahmed," though no sound

came from them. She was shaking all over, and the Vicomte put his arm

round her instinctively. She clung to him, and he knew with a bitter

certainty that the support of a table or a chair would have meant no

less to her.

"What is it, Henri?" he said sharply, with a slight movement that

interposed himself between Diana and his servant.

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

shattered."

Saint Hubert nodded curtly towards the door and turned his attention to

Diana. She sank down on the divan and, gathering the hound's head in

her arm, buried her face in his neck. "Forgive me," she murmured, her

voice muffled in the rough, grey hair. "It is stupid of me, but he is

riding that brute Shaitan to-day. I am always nervous. Please go. I

will come in a minute."

He went without a word. "I am always nervous." The tales he had heard

of Diana Mayo as he passed through Biskra did not include nerves. His

face was set as he ran hurriedly across the camp.

Diana sat quite still after he had gone until the nervous shuddering

ceased, until Kopec twisted his head free of her arms and licked her

face with an uneasy whine. She brushed her hand across her eyes with a

gasp of relief, and went out into the bright sunlight with the hound at

her heels.