“You will not? Remember you are a prisoner, my prisoner, and that the power of life and death and punishment is in my hands!” Zarah leant right forward and looked into the steady blue eyes, whilst the men, knowing their mistress’s cunning, pressed forward. “You will not, you say?”
“No! I will not!”
Zarah sat up, her hand pointing at Ralph Trenchard, her eyes half closed in the strength of her terrible cruelty.
“I will make you, and I will make him in like manner if he refuses to obey.” She paused for a moment, and then spoke sharply. “Take the white man out, and whip him till he drops. Stop!”
She had won.
Yet as she leant back slowly she felt no triumph as she watched Helen swing round to the man who fought to get free.
Helen laughed, laughed good humouredly, splendidly, with all the pluck of her race, as she spoke to the man she was fighting for.
“Why should I not unfasten the very pretty sandal, Ra? Why should you be made to suffer, if my very capable fingers can undo the gold laces of my lady’s footwear? Don’t get angry, Ra, it’s a great waste of energy; besides, you know I always do exactly as I please.”
Yussuf listened to the men’s exclamations and laughter, to the sound of Helen’s feet mounting the steps, then flashed his torch three times.