Part 20 (1/2)

Perched on the make-s.h.i.+ft saddle of a baggage-camel at an apparently break-neck height above the ground, Muriel still had the feeling that she was playing an elaborate game as she jogged along beside Daniel's taller and more magnificent beast, with its gaily coloured ta.s.sels and trappings, and its rich white sheepskin upon which its rider was seated.

Behind them rode a black-bearded son of the desert, with a white _bernous_ over his head, silver-mounted pistols stuck into his sash, and a rifle slung over his shoulders. Daniel was holding her guiding-rope, and her two hands were therefore free, as she bounced up and down, to cling on to the sides of the saddle-a circ.u.mstance for which she was grateful, although it caused her to feel like a captive being led into slavery.

At the gate of the hotel her companion's camel knelt at a word from him, and he dismounted; but in her own case her less accustomed mount was not so easily induced to go down on its knees, and startled by its antics, she recklessly slid from the saddle and hung for a moment at its side, her legs kicking about in the air. A moment later she tumbled into Daniel's arms, and presently found herself deposited, like a piece of baggage, upon the doorstep, in front of Mrs. Bindane, who happened to be standing in the entrance bullying the hall porter.

”Hullo,” said Kate, casually, ”the was.h.i.+ng's come home.”

Muriel felt herself all over carefully, as though to make sure that her anatomy was still reasonably complete, and then, linking her arm in that of her friend, described to her the day's strenuous events; while Daniel, feeling that his presence was not required during these confidences, went over to his attendant to give him his instructions.

”My dear,” said Muriel enthusiastically, ”we've made a lovely camp out there. It's like a story out of the _Arabian Nights_.”

Kate Bindane looked at her suspiciously. ”Well, you be careful of those stories,” she said. ”They generally need a lot of expurgation before they're fit for family reading. Isn't this the man you told me kept a harim in the desert?”

”So they say,” she answered. ”Anyway he's evidently given it up.”

”He'll soon collect another,” her friend replied. ”I expect that's the Grand Chief Eunuch he's talking to now.”

”Did you get my note?” asked Muriel, anxious to change the subject.

”Yes,” she smiled, ”and your esteemed orders received the prompt attention of our Mr. Bindane, who 'phoned your papa, and ordered the car, and made himself quite useful.”

After the tragic death of Rupert Helsingham, four weeks ago, Kate Bindane had taken a gloomy aversion to their steamer, and had persuaded her husband to get rid of it, and to come out to this hotel on the edge of the desert. Muriel had, on more than one occasion, spent the night here with them in their comfortable suite of rooms; and now as she said ”good-bye,” she made arrangements for future meetings and visits, while Daniel, in a spasm of hospitality, suggested that they should make use of his camp as an occasional halting-place.

”During the day, while I'm at work in Cairo,” he said, ”you can make use of my tents. I'll tell my servant to look after you.”

Kate Bindane laughed. ”O, come now,” she answered, ”that's driving your birds right over my gun. It makes shooting too easy.”

Daniel was perplexed. ”What d'you mean?” he asked, as he seated himself beside Muriel in the car.

”Well,” said Mrs. Bindane, ”you've got the reputation of being a bit short with your fellow men; but to say you'll be glad to entertain us provided that you yourself are not there is the limit.”

Muriel turned to Daniel. ”She's only joking,” she a.s.sured him; ”that's her way.”

Kate uttered an exclamation. ”Oh, you little swine!” she said to Muriel.

”You're on _his_ side now!”

”No, I'm not,” Muriel protested, hastily, and the colour came into her face.

Daniel looked from one to the other. ”I don't know what you're talking about,” he said. ”I'm all at sea.”

The car moved away, and Muriel sat back in her corner luxuriously. She was very tired, and her feet ached. She was happy to find that she no longer felt awkward in this man's presence, and that her feminine intuition had not deserted her, for she seemed to have learned the trick of managing him. It was only necessary to make herself useful to him, to roll her sleeves up and show a little muscle, and his antagonism evaporated. He was prehistoric-that was all; and yet she could not a.s.sociate the idea of brutality with him. No, she had not quite cla.s.sified him; but at any rate she realized that she had probably been wrong in regarding him as being contemptuous of her s.e.x. He was only contemptuous of uselessness.

She glanced at him as he sat in silence by her side, and she noticed that his expression had become grave, and even sad.

”What's the matter?” she asked. ”You look unhappy.”

He aroused himself, and smiled; but his eyes were troubled.

”Yes, I feel a bit blue,” he said. ”I suppose it's the thought of my new job.”

”I'm rather surprised,” she commented, ”that you have taken it on. Why did you?”