"Alone?" He snapped out the question.
"No, Tajen; Kee Meng went, too."
"Where? Do you know?"—this with a frown.
"To the festival, Tajen."
Trent stood motionless. The frown disappeared as he remembered that he had ridden from the amphitheatre; they, being on foot, would be later in coming.
"Send Kee Meng to me as soon as he returns," he rapped, and entered the dwelling.
When a half-hour had gone by and Dana Charteris and Kee Meng had not come, the frown returned to Trent's forehead; returned and stayed; and deepened into furrows when another thirty minutes did not bring them. He went up on the roof to smoke and to be alone; and he paced the stones, drawing nervously upon the amber stem and confessing to himself that he was alarmed.
His heart beat a swift symphony of anticipation when he heard the gate open. Without looking over the roof-wall, he hurried below. As he stepped into the quadrangle and beheld the limp figure that was being supported by two muleteers, fear sank its talons into him.
The sound of his footsteps brought the limp figure up with a visible effort. He thrust back the two men; took a step; dropped on his knees before Trent.
"Tajen!" whispered Kee Meng. "Tajen, I swear by Allah that—"