The short twilight had gone and a brilliant moon shone high in the
heavens, illuminating the surrounding country with a clear white light.
At any other time the beauty of the scene, the glamour of the Eastern
night, the head-long gallop in company with this band of fierce
fighting men would have stirred Saint Hubert profoundly. His artistic
temperament and his own absolute fearlessness and love of adventure
would have combined to make the expedition an exciting experience that
he would not willingly have foregone. But the reason for it all, the
peril of the girl whom he loved so unexpectedly, changed the whole
colour of the affair, tinging it with a gravity and a suspense that
left a cold fear in his heart. And if to him, what then to the man
beside him? The question that Ahmed Ben Hassan had negatived so
scornfully a week before had been answered differently in the swift
look that had crossed his face this evening. He had not spoken since
they started, and Saint Hubert had not felt able to break the silence.
They had left the level country and were in amongst the long,
successive ranges of undulating ground, the summits standing out silver
white in the gleaming moonlight, the hollows filled with dark shadow,
like black pools of deep, still water. And at the bottom of one of the
slopes the Sheik pulled up suddenly with a low, hissing exclamation. A
white shape was lying face downwards, spread-eagled on the sand, almost
under The Hawk's feet, and at their approach two lean, slinking forms
cantered away into the night. The Sheik and Henri reached the still
figure simultaneously and Saint Hubert almost as quickly. He made a
hurried examination. The bullet that had stunned Gaston had glanced
off, leaving an ugly cut, and others that had hit him at the same time
had ploughed through his shoulder, breaking the bone and causing
besides wounds that had bled freely. He had staggered more than a mile
before he had fainted again from loss of blood. He came to under Saint
Hubert's handling, and lifted his heavy eyes to the Sheik, who was
kneeling beside him.
"Monseigneur--Madame--Ibraheim Omair," he whispered weakly, and
relapsed into unconsciousness.
For a moment the Sheik's eyes met Raoul's across his body, and then
Ahmed Ben Hassan rose to his feet. "Be as quick as you can," he said,
and went back to his horse. He leaned against The Hawk, his fingers
mechanically searching for and lighting a cigarette, his eyes fixed
unseeingly on the group around Gaston. The valet's broken words had
confirmed the fear that he had striven to crush since he discovered
Diana's absence.