Now arose a difficulty which was destined to result in vital consequences. I refer to the division of responsibility between Lord Wimpole and myself. Here were two caravans each with an acknowledged leader. During my illness the supreme command had fallen in the Englishman’s hands. Incompetent though he was he could not bring himself to relinquish it. Temporary power had gone to the little lace-maker’s head and the inevitable battle of wills began. The first open break occurred during a discussion as to future plans. Wimpole was all for a continuation of the life of ease and luxury which so well suited him. His absurd suggestion was an immediate removal to Tabala with an indefinite stay there. My decision was to push on to the beckoning East according to my original plans. In vain we argued. “Very well, we split,” said his lordship, his brow like thunder, his lower lip protruding like a camel’s.
The thought of leaving Lady Sarah was unbearable. Nevertheless with a heavy heart I resolved on the sacrifice, ordering Ab-Domen to make preparations for our departure. But an incident occurred which modified this laudable design.
Wimpole, since his re-establishment in his own tent, had reverted to his old manner of brawling domesticity. Sounds of strife resounded nightly from their quarters, the grumbling of his heavy voice, rising to imprecation, the crash of china and an occasional cry of protest from his unfortunate wife. Nevertheless, as far as I knew, he had not resorted to open violence. Pained and apprehensive I continued my preparations. Daily the doolahs trotted to and fro busily loading the camel-packs and striking all but the necessary tents. The eve of our separation arrived.
TWIN BEDOUINS OF THE EAST
Traprock and Whinney constantly on guard against possible surprise.
Twin Bedouins of the East
The Wimpoles gave a dinner in their luxurious dining-tent. I sat on Lady Sarah’s right, her husband being at the other end of the table. It was a mournful feast. My heart was too full for food but I quaffed the succession of vintage wines with reckless abandon. Our last evening together! At the thought my hand stole neath the napery to be met by that of my loved-one which awaited me as a bird awaits its mate.