Meredith drew a deep breath. “And a dam’ fine thing, too,” he said heartily. And reaching out a long arm he gripped the other’s shoulder for a moment with a pressure that was painful. “So that’s what you do in the desert when you vanish for months at a time, is it?” he said slowly, with a curious expression of relief in his voice and a feeling of self-disgust as he thought of the suspicions that had been forced upon him earlier in the evening.
“It isn’t all plain sailing, I suppose?” he suggested.
“Far from it,” replied Carew, “but it depends on the district, of course. Usually the beggars are grateful enough and I go pretty much where I please. But they are a naturally suspicious people and there are some places I can’t get into at any price. They think my work is a pretext and that I am a spy of the Government.”
“And are you?”
“Officially, no. But sometimes I see and hear things I think the Government should know—it’s a difficult country to administer—and at times the Government make use of my knowledge. I have acted as intermediary more than once in negotiations with some of the outlying tribes where it would be impossible to send a regularly accredited Agent without a regiment to back him up—and that usually ends in fighting which the Government try to avoid. There’s unrest enough in the south without stirring up any more trouble,” he added, turning to speak to a tall, saturnine-looking Arab who had suddenly approached with a soft murmur of apology.
The shrill sequel of a stallion and the trampling of hoofs made Meredith realise the reason for the interruption.
“Time up?” he said regretfully, following Carew into the tent. “By jove, it’s late!” he added, glancing at his watch, “can we get into Blidah by eleven?”
“Not by the way the Chalmers brought you,” replied Carew with a faint smile, buckling the clasp of the heavy burnous his servant folded about his shoulders. The same escort that had ridden with him earlier in the day was waiting but he dismissed them and alone the two men rode out into the moonlit night. For a time they did not speak. Carew had apparently reached the limit of his confidences and Meredith was in no mood to break the silence. It had been a curious meeting, a curious renewal of an old friendship, but the soldier was left with an uncomfortable feeling of doubt whether it would not have been kinder if no reminder of his early life had been brought to disturb the peace that, seemingly, his old friend had found in the desert. His presence must have vividly awakened in Carew memories of the past. For how much did the past still count with him? Did he never regret the fine old property in England where generations of Carews had lived since the days of the Virgin Queen whose visit during a royal progress had given the house its name? Meredith had many pleasant recollections of Royal Carew and the thought of the stately house he had known so full of life and happiness standing now empty and forlorn in the midst of its beautiful park gave him a feeling of sadness.
“Will you never go back, Gervas?” he asked involuntarily.
“Go back—where?”