Her friend stood perfectly still for a few moments, staring down at her in amazement. She had never before seen Muriel give way to uncontrolled grief in this manner; and she was frightened by the terrible rasping of her muffled sobs, and by the convulsive heaving of her shoulders. She did not know what to do, and her hands hesitated uncertainly between the whiskey-bottle standing on a shelf and the smelling-salts upon the dressing-table near to it.
At last, discarding the stimulants, she knelt down by her friend’s side, and put her strong arm around her. The tears had come into her own eyes, and as she patted Muriel’s shoulder, she fumbled for her handkerchief with her disengaged hand.
“Hush, hush, my darling!” she whispered. “Tell me what has happened.”
“He’s gone,” Muriel sobbed. “The camp’s gone. I saw the track of his camels leading away into the desert.”
She could say no more, and for a considerable time continued her passionate weeping.
At length she raised her head. “There are only some bits of paper and things left,” she moaned; and therewith she returned to her bitter tears.
Kate rose to her feet. “I am going to ’phone your father,” she said, “and ask him what has happened.”
She gave Muriel an encouraging pat, and hastened into the adjoining sitting-room, where a telephone was affixed to the wall. A few minutes later she was speaking to Lord Blair, asking him the reason of Daniel’s departure.
“We’ve just seen the deserted site of his camp,” she said, “and poor Muriel is in floods of tears.”
“Dear, dear!” came the reply. “Poor girl! Tell her Daniel has only gone away for a short time. I have had to send him to the Oases on business, that’s all.”