"Yes, San Francisco."
He handed it back to her. The writing he recognized as Delabar's. The Syrian, then, had tried to prevent the Hastings from setting out. As he had done his best to keep Gray from reaching the Gobi. Why?
CHAPTER XIII
THE DESERT
The next day Gray dispatched Mirai Khan to the amban's yamen to try to hire the necessary camels. He thought it better not to go himself. Without the consent of the Chinese official nothing could be done, as the amban would expect a liberal commission on every transaction in Ansichow. Also the official had a dozen ill-armed and ill-minded soldiery in the town barracks—enough to enforce his authority on Gray, although the Hastings' party was numerous enough to be independent of the Chinese.
Gray himself wandered moodily through the few streets of the village. Since the conversation of the evening before he had been restless. He had slept badly. Although he would not admit it to himself, the thought of Mary Hastings had preyed on him.
So it happened that his wandering took him to the camp of the Hastings.
He found Mary seated under the fly of the stores tent, inspecting and tallying a stock of provisions that Ram Singh had purchased. She looked up and nodded coolly at his approach.
"You are busy, Miss Hastings," he observed. "But I want to ask a favor. A half hour of your time."
The girl poised a pencil over her accounts doubtfully. Ram Singh scowled.