Lenora grasped the rails of the steamer and glanced downwards at the great barge full of Arab sailors and merchandise. In the near background were the docks of Port Said. It was their first glimpse of Eastern atmosphere and colour.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am,” she declared to Quest, “to think that this voyage is over. Every night I have gone to bed terrified.”
He smiled grimly.
“Things have been quiet enough the last few days,” he said. “There’s Harris on this barge. Look at Laura waving to him!”
The Scotland Yard man only glanced up at them. He was occupied in leaning over towards Laura, who was on the deck below.
“If you said the word,” he called out, “I wouldn’t be going back, Miss Laura. I’d stick to the ship fast enough.”
She laughed at him gaily.
“Not you! You’re longing for your smoky old London already. You cut it out, my friend. You’re a good sort, and I hope we’ll meet again some day. But—”
She shook her head at him good-humouredly. He turned away, disappointed, and waved his hand to Lenora and Quest on the upper deck.
“Coming on shore, any of you?” he enquired.