The Sheik

Diana's eyes never left the Sheik's face, she felt the old paralysing

fear of him rushing over her, irresistibly drowning for the moment even

the love she had for him. She had seen him in cruel, even savage moods,

but nothing that had ever approached the look of horrible pleasure that

was on his face now. It was a revelation of the real man with the thin

layer of civilisation stripped from him, leaving only the primitive

savage drunk with the lust of blood. And she was afraid, with a

shuddering horror, of the merciless, crimson-stained hands that would

touch her, of the smiling, cruel mouth that would be pressed on hers,

and of the murderous light shining in his fierce eyes. But for the

dying wretch expiating his crimes so hideously she felt no pity, he was

beyond all sympathy. She had seen him murder wantonly, and she knew

what her own fate would have been if Ahmed Ben Hassan had not come. And

the retribution was swift. The Sheik was being more merciful to him

than the robber chief had been to many, a few moments of agony instead

of hours of lingering torture.

The noise outside the tent was growing louder as the fighting rolled

back in its direction, and once or twice a bullet ripped through the

hangings. One that came closer than the others made Diana turn her head

and she saw what Ahmed Ben Hassan, absorbed in the fulfilment of his

horrible task, had not even thought of--the three big negroes and a

dozen Arabs who had stolen in silently from the inner room. For once,

in the intoxication of the moment, the Sheik was careless and caught

off his guard. Agony leaped into her eyes. The fear of him was wiped

out in the fear for him. She tried to warn him, but no sound would come

from her throbbing throat, and she crawled nearer to him and touched

him. He dropped the dead chief back into the tumbled cushions and

looked up swiftly, and at the same moment Ibraheim Omair's men made a

rush. Without a word he thrust her behind the divan and turned to meet

them. Before his revolver they gave way for a moment, but the burly

Nubians behind swept the Arabs forward. Three times he fired and one of

the negroes and two Arabs fell, but the rest hurled themselves on him,

and Diana saw him surrounded. His strength was abnormal, and for some

minutes the struggling mass of men strained and heaved about him. Diana

was on her feet, swaying giddily, powerless to help him, cold with

dread.