“Very well,” she said. “You have done all that you can. You must go back to the camp now, Paul, while you still can.”
“No.”
“I shall be all right, Paul. No one suspects this house. You have always been careful when you came here that the tunnel was empty. At the worst I have the little Belgian automatic pistol you gave me.”
“No,” Paul repeated.
“But your place is in the camp with your men.”
“I have leave,” said Paul. “I applied for leave the moment I knew that we had three days more in Fez.”
Marguerite did not for a moment doubt the truth of what he said. He spoke so simply. It was so natural a thing that he should ask for leave. She gave up the little scheme to which she had steeled her heart. Her arms crept about his neck.
“There!” she whispered with a sigh of relief. “I have tried to send you away, haven’t I? I have done my best and you won’t go! I am glad, Paul, I am glad! Alone I should have shivered in terror.”
“We shall be together, Marguerite.”
Her lips trembled to a smile. Danger thus encountered seemed in the anticipation hardly to be considered a danger at all.