“What d’you think will happen?” he asked, passing his fingers to and fro across his lips. The sudden dryness of his mouth had produced a sort of click in his words which he endeavoured thus to mitigate.
“Oh, they’ll catch him in time,” Mr. Jones replied, “though Mrs. Darling’s reprehensible conduct in keeping the facts to herself for so long has helped him to get clear away. His description is in all the papers—dark hair and eyes; clean-shaven; sallow complexion; athletic build; five foot ten in height....”
Jim smiled in a sickly manner. “That might describe me,” he said, and laughed.
“Yes,” Mr. Jones responded, “I’m afraid it’s not much to go on; but they’ll get him, believe me. I expect they’ll publish a photograph soon.”
Jim drew his breath between his teeth, and again his heart seemed to be arrested in its beating. He wanted to rise from his chair and to run from the dahabiyeh. It seemed to him that his agitation must be wholly apparent to his guest: a man’s entire life could not be shattered and fall to pieces in such utter ruin with no outward sign of the devastation.
He was about to make a move of some sort to end the ordeal when Monimé appeared upon the steps leading up from the saloon, and invited Mr. Jones to come down to see some of her paintings. He rose at once to comply; and thereupon Jim lurched from his chair, and, holding on to the table before him, looked wildly towards the slopes of golden sand which could be seen between the vari-coloured hangings.
Monimé came over to him as the clergyman disappeared down the stairs. “Hullo, Jim,” she said, “you look ill, dear. Is anything the matter?”
He tried to laugh. “No,” he answered sharply. “Why should you think so? I’m all right—only rather bored by your talkative friend.”
She put her arm about him and kissed him: then, suddenly standing back from him, she looked anxiously into his face. “You are ill,” she said. “Your forehead is burning hot. You’ve been out in the sun without your hat. Oh, Jim, you are so careless!”
For a moment his knees gave way under him, and he swayed visibly as he stood. “I’m all right, I tell you,” he gasped. “Go and show them your pictures.”