The Sheik

What she left he had finished, and then, breathless and angry, had

ridden back across the park with her and had briefly announced to Sir

Aubrey, who happened to be at home upon one of his rare visits, that

his pupil was both too old and too pretty to continue her studies at

the 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 she

was perfectly able to take up the role for which he had always intended

her; mentally he presumed that she knew as much as it was necessary for

her to know, and, in any case, travelling itself was an education, and

a far finer one than could be learned from books. So Diana grew up in a

day, and in a fortnight the old life was behind her and she had started

out on the ceaseless travels with her brother that had continued for

the last six years--years of perpetual change, of excitements and

dangers.

She thought of it all, sitting on the broad rail of the balcony, her

head slanted against the column on which she leaned. "It's been a

splendid life," she murmured, "and to-morrow--to-day begins the most

perfect part of it." She yawned and realised suddenly that she was

desperately sleepy. She turned back into her room, leaving the windows

wide, and, flinging off her wrap, tumbled into bed and slept almost

before her head was on the pillow.

It must have been about an hour later when she awoke, suddenly wide

awake. She lay quite still, looking cautiously under her thick lashes.

The room was flooded with moonlight, there was nothing to be seen, but

she had the positive feeling that there was another presence in the

room beside her own; she had had a half-conscious vision in the moment

of waking of a shadowy something that had seemed to fade away by the

window. As the actual reality of this thought pierced through the sleep

that dulled her brain and became a concrete suggestion, she sprang out

of the bed and ran on to the balcony. It was empty. She leaned over the

railing, listening intently, but she could see nothing and hear

nothing. 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 on

the dressing table; and the suit-cases had apparently not been tampered

with. By the bedside the ivory-mounted revolver that she always carried

was lying as she had placed it. She looked around the room again,

frowning. "It must have been a dream," she said doubtfully, "but it

seemed 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, and

in five minutes she was asleep again.