The Sheik

Diana could understand nothing of what she said, but her expressive

gestures told the story of the struggle plainly enough. The Nubian

listened with white teeth flashing in a broad grin, and shook his head

in response to some request urged with denunciatory fist. He picked up

the last remaining embers that had scattered on the rug, rubbing the

smouldering patches till they were extinguished, and then turned to

leave the room. But Diana called him back. She went a step forward, her

head high, and looked him straight in the face.

"Fetch me water!" she said imperiously. He pointed to the coffee that

the woman had recommenced to make, her back turned to them, but Diana

stamped her foot. "Water! Bring me water!" she said again, more

imperiously than before. With a wider grin the negro made a gesture of

acquiescence and went out, returning in a few moments with a

water-skin.

The thought of its condition made her hesitate for a moment, but only

for a moment. Her thirst was too great to allow niceties to interfere

with it. She picked up one of the clean coffee-cups that had rolled to

her feet, rinsed it several times, and then drank. The water was warm

and slightly brackish, but she needed it too much to mind. In spite of

being tepid it relieved the dry, suffocating feeling in her throat and

refreshed her. The Nubian went away again, leaving the woman still

crouching over the brazier.

Diana walked back to the cushions and dropped down on to them gladly.

The events of the last few moments had tried her more than she

realised, her legs were shaking under her, and she was thankful to sit

down. But her courage had risen with a bound; the fact that she was

physically stronger than the woman who had been put to guard her, and

also that she had gained her point with the burly negro, had a great

moral effect on her, further restoring her confidence in herself.

Her position was an appalling one, but hope was strong within her. The

fact that since she had regained consciousness she had seen only the

woman and the Nubian seemed to argue that Ibraheim Omair must be absent

from his camp; the thought that he might purposely be delaying the

moment of inspecting his captive with a view to prolonging her mental

torture she put from her as improbable. She did not credit him with so

much acumen. And from his absence her courage gained strength. If it

could only be prolonged until Ahmed reached her. That the Sheik would

come she knew, her faith in him was unbounded. If he only came in time!

Hours had passed since the ambuscade had surprised them. It had been

early afternoon then. Now the lighted lamp told her it was night. How

late she did not know. Her watch had been broken some months before,

and she had no means of even guessing the hour, but it must be well on

in the evening. By now the absence of herself and Gaston and their

escort would be discovered. He would know her peril and he would come

to her. Of that she had no doubt. Although he had changed so strangely

in the last few days, though the wonderful gentleness of the last two

months had merged again into indifference and cruelty, still she never

doubted.