The loyalty that had hung trembling in the balance
reasserted itself and a self-disgust seized him. He had been within an
ace of betraying the man who had been for twenty years nearer to him
than a brother. She belonged to his friend, and now he had not even the
right to question the ethics of the Sheik's possession of her. The calm
that he had lost came back to him. The wound would heal though it might
always throb, but he was strong enough to hide its existence even from
the jealous eyes that had watched him ceaselessly since his outburst on
the night of his arrival. He had been conscious of them daily. Even
this morning the Sheik had made every effort short of a direct command
to induce him to go with him on the expedition that had taken him away
so early. Sure of himself now, he lifted her fingers to his lips again
reverently with a kind of renunciation in his kiss, and laid her hand
down gently. He turned away with a smothered sigh and a little pang at
her complete absorption, and, as he did so, Henri came in quickly.
"Monsieur le Vicomte! Will you come? There has been an accident."
With a cry that Saint Hubert never forgot Diana leaped to her feet, her
face colourless, and her lips framed the word "Ahmed," though no sound
came from them. She was shaking all over, and the Vicomte put his arm
round her instinctively. She clung to him, and he knew with a bitter
certainty that the support of a table or a chair would have meant no
less to her.
"What is it, Henri?" he said sharply, with a slight movement that
interposed himself between Diana and his servant.
"One of the men, Monsieur le Vicomte. His gun burst, and his hand is
shattered."
Saint Hubert nodded curtly towards the door and turned his attention to
Diana. She sank down on the divan and, gathering the hound's head in
her arm, buried her face in his neck. "Forgive me," she murmured, her
voice muffled in the rough, grey hair. "It is stupid of me, but he is
riding that brute Shaitan to-day. I am always nervous. Please go. I
will come in a minute."
He went without a word. "I am always nervous." The tales he had heard
of Diana Mayo as he passed through Biskra did not include nerves. His
face was set as he ran hurriedly across the camp.
Diana sat quite still after he had gone until the nervous shuddering
ceased, until Kopec twisted his head free of her arms and licked her
face with an uneasy whine. She brushed her hand across her eyes with a
gasp of relief, and went out into the bright sunlight with the hound at
her heels.