He dropped the flap and began walking up and down again. There was a
sinister tone in his voice that made Diana suddenly comprehend the
little Frenchman's peril. Ahmed Ben Hassan was not the man to be easily
alarmed on any one's behalf. That he was anxious about Gaston was
apparent, and with her knowledge of him she understood his anxiety
argued a very real danger. She had heard tales before she left Biskra,
and since then she had been living in an Arab camp, and she knew
something of the fiendish cruelty and callous indifference to suffering
of the Arabs. Ghastly mental pictures with appalling details crowded
now into her mind. She shuddered.
"What would they do to him?" she asked shakily, with a look of horror.
The Sheik paused beside her. He looked at her curiously and the cruelty
deepened in his eyes. "Shall I tell you what they would do to him?" he
said meaningly, with a terrible smile.
She gave a cry and flung her arms over her head, hiding her face. "Oh,
do not! Do not!" she wailed.
He jerked the ash from his cigarette. "Bah!" he said contemptuously.
"You are squeamish."
She felt sick with the realisation of what could result to Gaston from
her action. She had had no personal feeling with regard to him. On the
contrary, she liked him--she had not thought of him, the man, when she
had stampeded his horse and left him on foot so far from camp. She had
looked upon him only as a jailer, his master's deputy.
The near presence of this hostile Sheik explained many things she had
not understood: Gaston's evident desire daring their ride not to go
beyond a certain distance, the special activity that had prevailed of
late amongst the Sheik's immediate followers, and the speed and silence
that had been maintained during the headlong gallop across the desert
that evening. She had known all along the Arab's obvious affection for
his French servant, and it was confirmed now by the anxiety that he did
not take the trouble to conceal--so unlike his usual complete
indifference to suffering or danger.
She looked at him thoughtfully. There were still depths that she had
not fathomed in his strange character. Would she ever arrive at even a
distant understanding of his complex nature? There was a misty yearning
in her eyes as they followed his tall figure up and down the tent. His
feet made no sound on the thick rugs, and he moved with the long,
graceful stride that always reminded her of the walk of a wild animal.
Her new-found love longed for expression as she watched him. If she
could only tell him! If she had only the right to go to him and in his
arms to kiss away the cruel lines from his mouth! But she had not. She
must wait until she was called, until he should choose to notice the
woman whom he had taken for his pleasure, until the baser part of him
had need of her again. He was an Arab, and to him a woman was a slave,
and as a slave she must give everything and ask for nothing.