XLIV

Stephen rode back with his Arab companion, to the desert city where

Nevill waited. He had gone to the Zaouïa alone with the guide, because

Nevill had thought it well, in case of emergencies, that he should be

able to say: "I have a friend in Oued Tolga who knows where I am, and is

expecting me." Now he was coming away, thwarted for the moment, but far

from hopeless.

It is a four hours' ride among the dunes, between the Zaouïa and the

town, for the sand is heavy and the distance is about seventeen miles.

The red wine of sunset was drained from the cups of the sand-hollows,

and the shadows were cool when Stephen saw the minaret of the town

mosque and the crown of an old watch-tower, pointing up like a thumb and

finger of a buried hand. Soon after, he passed through the belt of black

tents which at all seasons encircles Oued Tolga as a girdle encircles

the waist of an Ouled Naïl, and so he rode into the strange city. The

houses were crowded together, two with one wall between, like Siamese

twins, and they had the pale yellow-brown colour of honeycomb, in the

evening light. The roughness of the old, old bricks, made of baked sand,

gave an effect of many little cells; so that the honeycomb effect was

intensified; and the sand which flowed in small rippling waves round the

city, and through streets narrow and broad, was of the same honey-yellow

as the houses, except that it glittered with gypsum under the kindling

stars. Among the bubbly domes, and low square towers, vague in the

dimming light, bunches of palms in hidden gardens nodded over crumbling

walls, like dark plumes on the crowns of the dancing-women.

In the market-place was the little hotel, newly built; the only French

thing in Oued Tolga, except the military barracks, the Bureau Arabe, and

a gurgling artesian well which a French officer had lately completed.

But before Stephen could reach the market-place and the hotel, he had to

pass through the quarter of the dancing-girls.

It was a narrow street, which had low houses on either side, with a

balcony for every mean window. Dark women leaned their elbows on the

palm-wood railings, and looked down, smoking cigarettes, and calling

across to each other. Other girls sat in lighted doorways below, each

with a candle guttering on a steep step of her bare staircase; and in

the street walked silent men with black or brown faces, whose white

burnouses flowed round their tall figures like blowing clouds. Among

them were a few soldiers, whose uniforms glowed red in the twilight,

like the cigarette ends pulsing between the painted lips of the Ouled

Naïls. All that quarter reeked with the sweet, wicked smell of the East;

and in the Moorish café at the far end, the dancing-music had begun to

throb and whine, mingling cries of love and death, with the passion of

both. But there was no dancing yet, for the audience was not large

enough. The brilliant spiders crouched in their webs, awaiting more

flies; for caravans were coming in across that desert sea which poured

its yellow billows into the narrow street; and in the market-place,

camel-drivers only just arrived were cooking their suppers. They would

all come a little later into this quarter to drink many cups of coffee,

and to spend their money on the dancers.

As Stephen went by on horseback, the girls on the balconies and in the

doorways looked at him steadily without smiling, but their eyes sparkled

under their golden crowns, or scarlet headkerchiefs and glittering

veils. Behind him and his guide, followed a procession of boys and old

men, with donkeys loaded with dead palm-branches from the neighbouring

oasis, and the dry fronds made a loud swishing sound; but the dancers

paid no attention, and appeared to look through the old men and children

as if they did not exist.

In the market-place were the tired camels, kneeling down, looking

gloomily at their masters busy cooking supper on the sand. Negro sellers

of fruit and fly-embroidered lumps of meat, or brilliant-coloured

pottery, and cheap, bright stuffs, were rolling up their wares for the

night, in red and purple rags or tattered matting. Beggars lingered,

hoping for a stray dried date, or a coin before crawling off to secret

dens; and two deformed dwarfs in enormous turbans and blue coats,

claimed power as marabouts, chanting their own praises and the praises

of Allah, in high, cracked voices.

As Stephen rode to the hotel, and stopped in front of the arcade which

shaded the ground floor, Nevill and another man sprang up from chairs

pushed back against the white house-wall.

"By Jove, Legs, I'm glad to see you!" Nevill exclaimed, heartily, "What

news?"

"Nothing very great so far, I'm sorry to say. Much as we expected,"

Stephen answered. And as he spoke, he glanced at the stranger, as if

surprised that Nevill should speak out before him. The man wore the

smart uniform of the Chasseurs d'Afrique. He was quite young, not over

thirty-four, and had a keen, brave face, as Stephen could see by the

crude light of a lamp that was fixed in the wall. But the large grey

eyes, somewhat pale in contrast with deep sunburn, were the eyes of a

poet rather than those of a born soldier.

"I must introduce you and Captain Sabine to each other," Nevill went on,

in French, as Stephen got off his horse and it was led away by the Arab.

"He's staying at the hotel. He and I've been talking about the Zaouïa

and--the marabout. The upshot of our conversation will astonish you. I

feel sure, when you hear it, you will think we can talk freely about our

business to Captain Sabine."

Stephen said something polite and vague. He was interested, of course,

but would have preferred to tell his adventure to Nevill alone.

"Monsieur Caird and I made acquaintance, and have been chatting all the

afternoon," volunteered Sabine. "To begin with, we find we have many

friends in common, in Algiers. Also he knows relations of mine, who have

spoken of me to him, so it is almost as if we had known each other

longer. He tells me that you and he are searching for a young lady who

has disappeared. That you have followed here a man who must know where

she is; that in the city, you lost track of the man but heard he had

gone on to the Zaouïa; that this made you hope the young lady was there

with her sister, whose husband might perhaps have some position under

the marabout."

"I told him these things, because I thought, as Captain Sabine's been

sinking an artesian well near the Zaouïa, he might have seen Miss Ray,

if she were there. No such luck. He hasn't seen her; however, he's given

me a piece of information which makes it just about as sure she _is_

there, as if he had. You shall have it from him. But first let me ask

you one question. Did you get any news of her?"

"No. I heard nothing."

"Does that mean you saw----"

"No. I'll tell you later. But anyhow, I went into the Zaouïa, almost

certain she was there, and that she'd seen me coming. That was a good

start, because of course I'd had very little to go on. There was only a

vague hope. I asked for the marabout, and they made me send a

visiting-card--quaint in the desert. Then they kept me moving about a

while, and insisted on showing me the mosque. At last they took me to a

hideous reception room, with a lot of good and vile things in it, mixed

up together. The marabout came in, wearing the black mask we'd heard

about--a fellow with a splendid bearing, and fine eyes that looked at me

very hard over the mask. They were never off my face. We complimented

each other in French. Then I said I was looking for a Miss Ray, an

American girl who had disappeared from Algiers, and had been traced to

the Zaouïa, where I had reason to believe she was staying with a

relative from her own country, a lady married to some member of his

staff. I couldn't give him the best reason I had for being sure she

_was_ there, as you'll see when I tell you what it was. But he said

gravely that no European lady was married to any one in the Zaouïa; that

no American or any other foreign person, male or female, was there. In

the guest-house were one or two Arab ladies, he admitted, who had come

to be cured of maladies by virtue of his power; but no one else. His

denial showed me that he was in the plot to hide Miss Ray. That was one

thing I wanted to know; so I saw that the best thing for her, would be

for me to pretend to be satisfied. If it hadn't been for what happened

before I got to the Zaouïa gates, I should almost have been taken in by

him, perhaps, he had such an air of noble, impeccable sincerity. But

just as I dipped down into a kind of hollow, on the Zaouïa side of the

river, something was thrown from somewhere. Unluckily I couldn't be sure

where. I'd been looking up at the roofs behind the walls, but I must

have had my eyes on the wrong one, if this thing fell from a roof, as I

believe it did. It was a little bundle, done up in a handkerchief, and I

saw it only as it touched the ground, about a dozen yards in front. Then

I hurried on, you may be sure, hoping it was meant for me, to grab the

thing before any one else could appear and lay hands on it."

"Well?"

"Luckily I'd outridden the guide. I made him think afterward that I'd

jumped off my horse to pick up the whip, which I dropped for a blind, in

case of spying eyes. Tied up in the silk handkerchief--an Arab-looking

handkerchief--was a string of amber beads. Do you remember the beads

Miss Ray bought of Miss Soubise, and wore to your house?"

"I remember she had a handsome string of old prayer-beads."

"Is this the one?" Stephen took the handkerchief and its contents from

his pocket, and Nevill examined the large, round lumps of gleaming

amber, which were somewhat irregular in shape. Captain Sabine looked on

with interest.

"I can't be sure," Nevill said reluctantly.

"Well, I can," Stephen answered with confidence. "She showed it to me,

in your garden. I remember a fly in the biggest bead, which was clear,

with a brown spot, and a clouded bead on either side of it. I had the

necklace in my hand. Besides, even if I weren't as certain as I am, who

would throw a string of amber beads at my feet, if it weren't some one

trying to attract my attention, in the only way possible? It was as much

as to say, 'I know you've come looking for me. If you're told I'm not

here, it's false.' I was a good long way from the gates; but much nearer

to a lot of white roofs grouped behind the high wall of the Zaouïa, than

I would have been in riding on, closer to the gates. Unfortunately there

are high parapets to screen any one standing on the roofs. And anyhow,

by the time the beads were thrown, I was too low down in the hollow to

see even a waved hand or handkerchief. Still, with that necklace in my

pocket, I knew pretty well what I was about, in talking with the

marabout."

"You thought you did," said Nevill. "But you'd have known a lot more if

only you could have made Captain Sabine's acquaintance before you

started."

Stephen looked questioningly at the Frenchman.

"Perhaps it would be better to speak in English," suggested Sabine. "I

have not much, but I get on. And the kitchen windows are not far away.

Our good landlord and his wife do not cook with their ears. I was

telling your friend that the marabout himself has a European wife--who

is said to be a great beauty. These things get out. I have heard that

she has red hair and skin as white as cream. That is also the

description which Mr. Caird gave me of the young lady seeking a sister.

It makes one put two and two together, does it not?"

"By Jove!" exclaimed Stephen. He and Nevill looked at each other, but

Nevill raised his eyebrows slightly. He had not thought it best, at

present, to give the mystery of Cassim ben Halim, as he now deciphered

it, into a French officer's keeping. It was a secret in which France

would be deeply, perhaps inconveniently, interested. A little later, the

interference of the French might be welcome, but it would be just as

well not to bring it in prematurely, or separately from their own

personal interests. "I wish to heaven," Stephen went on, "I'd known this

when I was talking to the fellow! And yet--I'm not sure it would have

made much difference. We were deadly polite to each other, but I hinted

in a veiled way that, if he were concealing any secret from me, the

French authorities might have something to say to him. I was obsequious

about the great power of Islam in general, and his in particular, but I

suggested that France was the upper dog just now. Maybe his guilty

conscience made him think I knew more than I did. I hope he expects to

have the whole power of France down on him, as well as the United

States, which I waved over his head, Miss Ray being an American. Of

course I remembered your advice, Nevill, and was tactful--for her sake,

for fear anything should be visited on her. I didn't say I thought he

was hiding her in the Zaouïa. I put it as if I wanted his help in

finding her. But naturally he expects me back again; and we must make

our plans to storm the fortress and reduce it to subjection. There isn't

an hour to waste, either, since this necklace, and Captain Sabine's

knowledge, have proved to us that she's there. Too bad we didn't know it

earlier, as we might have done something decisive in the beginning. But

now we do know, with Captain Sabine's good will and introduction we may

get the military element here to lend a hand in the negotiations. A

European girl can't be shut up with impunity, I should think, even in

this part of the world. And the marabout has every reason not to get in

the bad books of the French."

"He is in their very best books at present," said Sabine. "He is

thought much of. The peace of the southern desert is largely in his

hands. My country would not be easily persuaded to offend him. It might

be said in his defence that he is not compelled to tell strangers if he

has a European wife, and her sister arrives to pay her a visit. Arab

ideas are peculiar; and we have to respect them."

"I think my friend and I must talk the whole matter over," said Stephen,

"and then, perhaps, we can make up our minds to a plan of action we

couldn't have taken if it weren't for what you've told us--about the

marabout and his European wife."

"I am glad if I have helped," Sabine answered. "And"--rather

wistfully--"I should like to help further."