He cut short the Arab’s glib protestations and hustled him towards the door. But on the threshold the man paused irresolutely, with another obsequious salaam.
“I have served my lord in the past,” he muttered sullenly, “for the sake of that service will not my lord forget—tonight?”
Carew looked at him through narrowing eyelids.
“To suit thine own ends hast thou served me,” he said pointedly, “and forgetfulness comes not readily to those who live with a sharp reminder—as I shall live,” he added, stooping swiftly and catching up the knife that lay near his foot. With a cold smile he thrust it into his waistcloth and turned slowly back into the room. He did not trouble to wait and watch the man off the premises. He had known Abdul el Dhib for years and his knowledge made him confident that in the meantime he was safe from any form of revenge from the human jackal on whose head the Algerian Government had set a price. Usually his activities were confined to more remote districts and Carew had been surprised to see him so near to civilisation. But it was no part of his business to act as a common police spy and he knew that Abdul had counted on the fact when he had endeavoured to make terms with him. Remained the more perplexing problem of the woman thrust, wholly undesired, on his hands. She was still crouched on the dusty mud floor where she had fallen and he went to her reluctantly.
She shivered at his touch, staggering to her feet with a swift glance of apprehension round the room. Clutching the screening mass of curls about her she passed a hand over her eyes as though clearing away the remembrance of some horrible vision. She showed no fear of the tall Arab-clad figure standing beside her, by some curious instinct she seemed sensible that his presence constituted a protection and not a menace. But equally she displayed no haste to explain the predicament in which he had found her or to disclose her identity. Stunned by the terrible experience through which she had passed, she appeared to be only half conscious and incapable of any initiative. Carew, passionately anxious to be quit of the whole business, was not inclined to beat about the bush, but came to the point with characteristic directness.
“You come from Blidah, Madame?”
She looked at him blankly, her puzzled eyes still shadowy with pain, and he repeated the question slower and more distinctly.
“Blidah—” she echoed vaguely. “Blidah? No—Algiers.”
A look of dismay crossed Carew’s face. Algiers was thirty miles away. He could have taken her back to Blidah easily enough, but Algiers with Suliman, who had already done a hard day’s work, carrying double—it was out of the question. He jerked his head with a gesture of annoyance and scowled thoughtfully, mentally cursing Abdul el Dhib and the woman beside him with fine impartiality.
“Where in Algiers?” he asked shortly, by way of gaining time to think out the awkward situation. But the girl was past all explanations. “Algiers—” she repeated weakly and, reeling, would have fallen but for the strong arm slipped round her. That settled it. Half fainting and wholly unable to express herself she could give him no assistance and he realised there was nothing for it but the expedient he least desired—that of taking her to his own camp. His own camp—good God! Antagonism grew into actual dislike as he glanced down at the slender boyish figure leaning against him. With a grunt of disgust he half led, half carried her out of the hut.