Under the desert stars

by Frank Koester

Even though she had already refused his offer of marriage he was determined to win her.

Sana and he were at the Hotel Messmer, one afternoon, enjoying the music and refreshments, which were delightful. The hotel was a favored resort and attracted a large number of noblemen and people of wealth.

Heinecke had just asked Sana a second time for her hand when she felt a strange sensation stealing over her. It was as if some power were seeking to enter her mind and control her body. Against her will she turned her head to look behind her. For a moment she stared in amazement. Her breath came in gasps. She sank back in her chair as though on the point of fainting, then finding her voice she shrieked “de Rochelle!”

It was but too true. There at a table a few steps away sat de Rochelle, as forbidding as ever. He had seen her with Heinecke and resorting to the powers he had exercised of old, he concentrated his mind upon hers, while staring at the back of her head, thus drawing her attention to him.

Heinecke, who was somewhat upset by this strange and unaccountable state of affairs, questioned Sana as to the cause. As briefly as possible and in a low trembling tone, Sana answered, “That man, the fourth table over, is François de Rochelle, who was once my sweetheart. He possesses a strange hypnotic influence over me and may cause me to commit rash acts. Even now I feel his power and I am afraid.”

Sana’s companion looked over to de Rochelle, who did not once take his eyes from the girl, although he was aware that Heinecke was watching him. This attitude made even the phlegmatic Heinecke furious. As in the days when he was a member of a student’s corps, he was ready to fight a duel at a moment’s notice—the three scars on his right cheek bore mute testimony to this spirit of younger days. So calling a waiter he sent his card to de Rochelle.

Rochelle well knew the intent of that action. He picked up the card, looked at it and with a sneering laugh, tore it into bits, tossing the scraps of paste-board back on the salver, in such a way that there was no mistaking his meaning.

Heinecke could only stare, muttering to himself, “No satisfaction to be had. Too bad.”

Sana was eager to get away from de Rochelle, from the hotel, from everybody, so hurriedly taking Heinecke by the arm, she fairly dragged him away, saying, for want of something better, “Now, look at what you have done!”

From the time that Sana had been carried unconscious from the morgue, in New York, to the hour of her departure for Europe Sana had been under the constant care of Dr. White and the O’Briens and they had purposely withheld from her the news that the body that had been found in the river was not that of de Rochelle. A newspaper reporter, who was at the scene of the drowning when the body was recovered, took it upon himself to say that the man was de Rochelle. Some cards and papers had been found on the body bearing the name of “François de Rochelle,” so it was as a “François de Rochelle” that the man was buried. As a matter of fact it developed a few days later that the suicide was a young bank clerk, who, with de Rochelle, had speculated heavily with part of the funds raised for the purpose of carrying out the work of the Sahara Development Organization. Things had gone wrong on the market that day and the clerk had called on de Rochelle, with a view to securing some money to cover their margins. De Rochelle was not to be found, but on the table lay a note, addressed to Sana, in which he stated that he had been discovered at last. He was going away forever. He asked her, also, to tell the bank clerk of his leaving.