"Humour him for a moment, dear," said Eileen softly. "We don't want to
hurt the poor old fellow's feelings."
Into the bundle the old man plunged his hand, and drew out a thin gold
chain upon which hung a queerly cut turquoise. He stood upright, raised
the piece of jewellery to his forehead and to his lips, and held it out,
the chain stretched across his open palms, to Eileen.
"He must be some kind of pedlar," said Graham.
Eileen shook her head, smiling.
"Mohammed, tell him that I cannot possibly take his chain," she
directed. "But thank him all the same, of course."
Mohammed, his face averted from the statuesque old figure, bent to her
ear.
"Take it!" he whispered. "Take it! Do not refuse!"
There was a sort of frightened urgency in his tones, so that both Graham
and his wife looked at him curiously.
"Take it, then, Eileen," said Graham quickly. "And, Mohammed, you must
find out who he is, and we will make it up to him in some way."
"Yes, yes, Effendi," agreed the man readily.
Eileen accordingly accepted the present, glancing aside at her husband
to intimate that they must not fail to pay for it. As she took the chain
in her hands, the donor said something in a low voice.
"Hang it round your neck," translated Mohammed.
Eileen did so, whispering:
"You must not lose sight of him, Mohammed."
Mohammed nodded; and the old man, replacing his turban and making a low
obeisance, spoke rapidly a few words, took up his bundle, and departed.
The silent bystanders made way for him.
"Come on," said Graham; "I am anxious to get out of this. Find a
carriage, Mohammed. We'll lunch at Shepheard's."
A carriage was obtained, and they soon left far behind them the scene of
this odd adventure. With Mohammed perched up on the box, Graham and his
wife could discuss the episode without restraint. Graham, however, did
most of the talking, for Eileen was strangely silent.
"It is quite a fine stone," he said, examining the necklace so curiously
acquired. "We must find some way of repaying the old chap which will not
offend his susceptibilities."
Eileen nodded absently; and her husband, with his eyes upon the dainty
white figure, found gratitude for her safety welling up like a hot
spring in his heart. The action had been characteristic; and he longed
to reprove her for risking her life, yet burned to take her in his arms
for the noble impulse that had prompted her to do so.
He wondered anxiously if her silence could be due to the after-effects
of that moment of intense excitement.
"You don't feel unwell, darling?" he whispered.
She smiled at him radiantly, and gave his hand a quick little squeeze.
"Of course not," she said.
But she remained silent to the end of the short drive. This was not due
to that which her husband feared, however, but to the fact that she had
caught a glimpse, amongst the throng at the corner of the bazaar, of the
handsome, sinister face of El-Suleym, the Bedouin.