"Kate!--where are you?" Muriel called, as she stood in the blazing sun
in the midst of the silent camp.
Daniel had deposited her here, and was now hastening, in a last spurt of
energy, towards the police headquarters, intent on gathering a force to
return with him to El Hamran.
"Good Lord!--it's Muriel," came a voice from one of the tents, and Kate
Bindane ran out into the sunlight, shading her eyes with her hand.
She slapped Muriel lustily on the back, and led her to an empty tent,
where she put her arms about her and kissed her. "My word!--you're
looking tired!" she laughed. "Have you had a wonderful time?"
"Lovely," said Muriel, sitting down upon the camp bed.
"Where are your camels?--where's Daniel?" Kate asked, somewhat
bewildered.
"Oh, we walked back," Muriel answered, with a casual gesture. "I'm
feeling quite tired." She began to laugh hysterically.
"D'you mean to say he made you walk?" her friend asked, incredulously.
"There wasn't much choice," she replied. "Oh, for heaven's sake, get me
something to drink, something long--miles long, and cold. I'll tell you
all about it presently."
Kate hurried away to find refreshments, and as she crossed the hot sand
once more, carrying an assortment of bottles, she encountered Daniel
coming back with the local police officer. He pulled off his hat and
shook hands with her, rapidly.
"How d'you do," he said. "Have you got a spare tent where I can have an
hour's sleep?"
Kate stared at him. "You seem very pleased to see me," she laughed.
"You're bubbling over with news, aren't you?"
"So sorry," he replied. "Muriel will tell you: there's been a bit of
trouble at El Hamran. I'm going back there with the police presently.
Can I doss down in here?" He pointed to the tent behind him; and, hardly
waiting for her reply, walked into it, telling the officer to arouse him
in an hour's time.
Kate shrugged her shoulders, and went back to Muriel, whom she found
pulling off her boots and stockings.
"Muriel, what's happened?" she asked. "Daniel says he's going back to El
Hamran with the police in an hour's time."
Muriel looked up, her face flushed. "Oh, the man's mad!" she declared.
"He's fagged out. He carried me half the way."
Rapidly she told her friend of the trouble in the Oasis and of their
escape, while Kate, uttering ejaculations of awe, plied her with
refreshment and helped her to pull off some of her clothes. Muriel was
far too exhausted to give a very intelligible account of their
adventures; and while yet Kate was fussing around, dabbing her feet with
eau de cologne, and rubbing her legs, she suddenly fell off to sleep.
Benifett Bindane listened, later, to his wife's version of the story
with marked interest.
"Well," he said, at length, "that settles our plans for us. We'll start
back for Cairo tomorrow." He looked at his wife curiously. "I wonder
what Lord Blair will say to it all," he mused.
"He must never know that Muriel wasn't with us," said Kate.
"That's impossible," he replied. "I shall have to tell him the truth."
"Benifett!" exclaimed his wife, staring at him in horror. "You're not
going to give her away, are you?"
His mouth hung open for some moments. "I've been thinking it over," he
said, at length, "and it seems to me that Lord Blair will have to be
told. If it leaked out, and we were found to have lied to him, there'd
be no hope of doing business with him in the future."
"Business!" Kate snorted. "Oh, man alive, is business the only thing in
life?" She turned away in disgust.
"No," he answered, "it's not the only thing, but it happens to be my
hobby, Kate, as you knew quite well when you married me. And I may as
well say now, that I am very hurt at the way you sneer at what is meat
and drink to me. I hope you'll think that over."
He looked very nearly pathetic as he spoke; and his wife was
sufficiently touched by his dejection to turn an angry scene into one of
affectionate conciliation.
"P'r'aps you're right," she said; and presently they went out together
to see what was happening to Daniel.
They found him just emerging from the tent where he had slept. It was
evident that he was still thoroughly tired; but a group of troopers and
their camels outside the police buildings indicated that, nevertheless,
an immediate start was to be made.
He was munching biscuits as he shook hands with Mr. Bindane. "I'm sorry
I can't stay," he said. "I've got to set this business to rights at
once. But I dare say we'll meet in Cairo before you leave for England.
Good-bye!" He held out his hand, but Kate checked him.
"I'll go and see if Muriel is awake," she said.
"No, never mind," Daniel answered, with his mouth full. "I won't disturb
her. Please tell her I'm coming to Cairo within a month from now."
He waved his hand to them, and hurried away; and presently they saw him
mount his camel and ride away southwards, followed by half a dozen
troopers, their rifles slung across their shoulders.
"Well, I'm blowed!" muttered Kate.
"It seems to me it's business first with him, too," remarked Mr.
Bindane, looking vacantly before him.
"Oh, rot!" replied his wife. "From what Muriel says it appears that he
had promised the old Sheikh that his son should hold office after him;
and he's going to keep his word."
That night Muriel confessed the whole truth to her friend, only exacting
the promise that she would not tell of her humiliation to Benifett. She
related the events without emotion, her voice steady and the expression
of her face calm. It was as though she were telling the story of some
other woman in whom she felt no personal interest. It was as though
Daniel had now passed entirely out of her life.
"I'm going to marry the first man who proposes to me," she said, setting
her jaw.
"Well, you'll have to look sharp about it," Kate replied. "He's coming
to carry you off by the hair in a month's time, and don't you forget
it."
Muriel put out her hand quickly, and touched her friend's arm. "No, you
don't understand him," she said. "He's not a bit that sort of man...."
She checked herself, feeling that she had no desire to be inveigled into
discussing his character.
Next morning, soon after breakfast, the start was made on the return
journey to the Nile. Muriel, after a long sleep, was quite recovered
from her fatigue; but she did not feel happy, and the wide vistas of the
desert did not make the same appeal to her as on the outward journey.
She felt herself to be very much older, very much more subdued; and
there was, as it were, a veil between her eyes and the beauty of the
wilderness.
Moreover, she was very self-conscious. It seemed to her that she had
lost caste; and, now that all the alarums and excursions were over, she
was not a little dismayed at the affront she had put upon the
conventions. Benifett Bindane's attitude to her was non-committal, but
in his evasion of the subject of her adventures he displayed an
awkwardness which she found almost insulting.
And then the natives.... She felt as though many pairs of eyes were upon
her, and more than once it seemed to her that she was not being treated
with the same deference as formerly.
Once, when her camel had lagged behind the others, she found herself
riding beside the Egyptian secretary of the expedition, a young man who
evidently regarded his personal appearance with favour; and it seemed to
her that he turned his dark eyes upon her with a boldness which she had
not previously observed.
But the most galling experience was provided by her dragoman, Mustafa,
who took the opportunity to speak to her on the day of their departure,
when she was sitting alone, waiting for the picnic luncheon to be
served.
"I hope my leddy was varry happy at El Hamran," he said, grinning at her
boldly.
"Thank you, yes," she answered, fiddling with her shoe.
"Mistair Lane he varry nice gentleman," he went on; and then, leaning
forward, he lowered his voice. "Mustafa know the beesness: he say
nudding; he keep varry quiet, my leddy. No talk 'bout El Hamran...."
"What d'you mean?" she exclaimed angrily, but he only smiled at her, and
salaamed.
It was disgusting, and she felt a cold shiver creep down her spine, as
she hastened across to the others.
As she jogged along, day after day, towards Cairo her thoughts were
given more and more to the subject of her coming return to her father.
What was she going to say to him? It had all seemed so easy before: she
had thought that there would be no difficulty in concocting a plausible
story. But now the idea of inventing a pack of lies revolted her; and as
they drew ever nearer to the Nile there grew steadily in her mind a
determination to tell him the truth.
Daniel, it seemed to her, had deliberately left her to extricate
herself; and at the thought her heart was filled with renewed anger
against him. Yet had she not told him that her plans were all laid to
prevent gossip, to prevent her father's name being injured? He probably
supposed that there would be no scandal; and, after all, why should
there be? A little talk in the native quarter, perhaps, that would be
all. But these lies she would have to tell her father! They hung over
her like a menacing storm.
Yet if she told the truth, what then? Daniel's reputation would suffer
as much as hers: she wondered whether he had realized this fact, when he
had obliged her to stay with him for the full fortnight.
Yes, she would tell the truth. It would be a ghastly ordeal, that hour
when she would have to face her father; but it would be better than
lies, and shufflings, and the crooked ways of which she had seen so much
amongst the women she had known in her life.
Suddenly the realization came to her that her character was not such as
theirs, that it took no delight in intrigue; and upon that disclosure
there followed a new understanding of Daniel's attitude to her when she
had told him of her arrangements for their secret fortnight.
"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, almost speaking aloud in the surprise of
her sudden shame. "What a sneaking little liar I must have seemed to
him!"
At last one day, in the blaze of noon, they descended from the desert
and dismounted from their camels at the gates of Mena House Hotel. Now,
towards the end of March, the days were growing hot, and Muriel
appreciated to the full the cool halls and shaded rooms of the hotel,
and at luncheon the ice which tinkled in her glass seemed to be a very
gift of the gods.
Amongst her letters, addressed to the care of Mr. Bindane, she found one
from her father, written from the White Nile; and her heart leaped with
sudden relief when she read in it that he had decided to extend his tour
through the Sudan, and would not be back in Cairo for another three
weeks. He suggested to her that she should invite the Bindanes to stay
at the Residency, so that Kate could be with her, thereby relieving Lady
Smith-Evered of the responsibility of upholding the conventions by her
otherwise unnecessary presence; or else that she should remain at Mena
House with them until his return.
She therefore put the two alternatives to her friends, and, though Kate
was all for remaining where they were, her husband could not resist the
aristocratic enticement of the Residency. Next day, therefore, they made
their adieux to the desert and drove into Cairo. Muriel's relief at not
having yet to face her father had raised her spirits; and for the first
time for many days she appeared once more to be vivacious and conscious
of the enjoyments of life.
All went well for a week or more. Muriel entertained her guests at the
Residency with painstaking care; and every day had its list of
engagements. Indeed she was glad of the task, for, now that her life had
resumed its unadventurous course, she could not keep her mind from
thinking over the events of the last few months, although her
recollections brought her nothing but searchings of heart.
Towards Daniel she maintained an attitude of estrangement. Though her
eyes had been opened to her own shortcomings, and she was no longer so
sure of herself as to be able to censure him without qualification, yet
she wanted to assert herself, and to show him that she was mistress of
her own destiny; and, like a spectator of her own life, she almost hoped
that she would find herself belonging to some other man by the time that
Daniel returned, so that she would be able to say, "There now!--you've
lost me, you see."
The bombshell fell unexpectedly. One morning Lady Smith-Evered came over
to the Residency soon after breakfast, and asked Muriel if she might see
her alone. She had been dining with them only the night before, and
Muriel did not, therefore, anticipate any serious trouble.
They went into the library together, and no sooner was the door shut
than the elder woman sat herself down in the desk chair, and cleared her
throat as though she were about to make a speech.
"Now Muriel," she began, "I want you to tell me the truth, please. I
have acted more or less as your chaperone throughout the winter, and I'm
sure you can trust me to do what is right. I want you to give me a
direct answer to a direct question: did you or did you not spend a
fortnight alone with Mr. Lane in the Oases?"
For a moment Muriel's head was in a whirl, and she felt the colour
mounting to her cheeks, as she hesitated to face the sudden crisis.
Then, fortifying herself to meet the situation with candour, she looked
at her questioner straight in the face.
"Tell me, first," she replied, "the story you have heard."
Lady Smith-Evered shrugged her shoulders. "I see no reason why I should
not. My maid told me late last night that she had heard it from our
native cook, who had heard it in the bazaars. The story was simply that
you left the Bindanes and went to stay with that man. I thought the best
thing I could do, and the General agreed, was to come and ask you
straight."
"Thank you," Muriel replied. "Yes, it's perfectly true."
Lady Smith-Evered threw up her fat hands. "My dear girl!--what on earth
made you do such a foolhardy thing? You might have known the natives
would talk. Of course I guessed you were in love with him, otherwise you
would never have been so rude to me as you were that day when I asked
you why he had left the Residency so suddenly. But I never dreamed that
things had gone so far. Supposing you have a baby...?"
An expression of amazed indignation came into Muriel's eyes, and for a
few moments she was absolutely dumb. It was as though she had had a lump
of mud flung straight at her face; and at first she experienced only
burning resentment and blinding anger. Then, suddenly, she saw things as
they were: the thought had never come to her until now in all its
crudeness, its stark nakedness.
"How can you suggest such a thing?" she answered at last, lamely, her
indignation strengthening her voice but not her wits.
"You must have been mad," said Lady Smith-Evered. "And at your age, too!
It was more than naughtiness: it was downright folly. And as for the
man, he deserves to be thrashed."
"But you don't understand," Muriel gasped. "There was no intimacy of any
kind."
Her visitor moved impatiently on her chair. "Oh, don't tell me such
fibs," she exclaimed. "My dear Muriel, I am a woman of the world. I only
want to help you."
Her words only served to accentuate the girl's alarm.
"But it's true," she cried. "I swear to you there was nothing of that
kind between us."
Lady Smith-Evered stared at her. "You can't expect me or anybody else to
believe that. Why, the man is a notorious bad character in regard to
women."
"No, he's not," she answered. "He may be a brute in other ways, but all
this rot about his Bedouin harim is just the silly talk of Cairo. I'm
not going to beg you to believe me. I'm just telling you the truth; and
if you don't think it's the truth you can go to ..."
She checked herself suddenly.
"But what are we to do?" said the elder woman, spreading out her hands.
"I'm not a prude; but the whole thing is shocking in a country like
this. How are we to prevent it ever coming to your father's ears?"
"I'm going to tell him as soon as he comes back," Muriel replied.
"Oh, you're incorrigible," exclaimed Lady Smith-Evered, angrily. "You
hav'n't got the sense even to know when to hold your tongue." She rose
to her feet and paced up and down the room. "What's to be done? Will you
please tell me what's to be done?"
"Nothing much," Muriel answered. She was becoming calmer now. She saw
herself in a new light, and her humiliation was extreme. Lady
Smith-Evered belonged to that world which Daniel had tried to teach her
to despise; and in this woman's eyes she appeared merely as a foolish,
naughty girl, whose rash actions had to be covered up by some sort of
lie. She would have infinitely preferred it if she had been instantly
ostracized and cut.
"Of course," Lady Smith-Evered went on, "I shall tell my maid that the
whole thing is nonsense; and it's just possible that the story will go
no further. But you ought to be ashamed of yourself for taking such
risks. And I have no words to express what I feel about Mr. Lane."
"Oh, please leave him out of it," Muriel exclaimed. "He never asked me
to come, or knew I was coming."
Lady Smith-Evered sniffed. "He knows his own power over women," she
said.
Muriel turned upon her fiercely. "I tell you he is in no way to blame."
Her visitor bowed. "I respect you for trying to defend him," she
answered. "We women always defend the men we love."
"But I don't love him," she cried. "I hate the sight of him."
Lady Smith-Evered spread out her hands again, evidently baffled. "That
makes it all the worse," she said. "Romance is whitewash for the
sepulchres of passion: it makes these things presentable; but if you say
the affair was not prompted by love, then I absolutely fail to
understand you. It sounds unnatural, indecent."
She moved towards the door. "I'll do my best to hush it up," she
concluded; "but the sooner you get married to some nice easy-going
Englishman the better. These sort of things are more _comme il faut_
after marriage, my dear."
And with that she left the room.