“Helen R-raynor-r!” She spoke the sweetest broken English in the world, her r’s rolling like little drums. “Ze fr-r-ien’ of my youz! Can you under-r-stan’? Can I beg for your-r for-r-give-e-ness for ze ter-r-ible mistake?”
She gave Helen no time to grant it or not. She launched out on the most plausible explanation of the disastrous battle that a crafty mind could possibly have invented on the spur of the moment. “I could not hold my men; I could not make zem hear-r or-r under-r-stan’ in ze noise of ze fight zat we had not foun’ ze r-r-right enemy.” She flung her arms up above her head, which she then proceeded to bow to the ground. “By ze gr-r-ace of Allah”—she raised her face and right hand to the ceiling, a veritable picture of piety—“zey did hear-r my or-r-der not to fir-r-e so zat you, dear-r fr-rien’ of my happy schooldays, was not kill-ed. Ah! Zose ozer bar-r-bar-rians zat kill-ed ze old Englishman wiz ze white hair-r, zay were ze ones we——”
“My grandfather! But he was killed by a spear through the heart, a spear thrown by one of your men. The others came up from behind!”
In spite of the reputation for lying and every kind of deception that the Arabian had gained at school, Helen had almost allowed herself to believe the plausible tale told in the guileless voice.
But, her suspicions aroused by the last barefaced untruth, she drew away as far as the divan would allow from the supplicating figure with the sorrow-laden eyes.
But as well try to catch an ostrich on the run as Zarah in a falsehood.
She rose to her feet, a superb figure of sorrowful indignation, and threw out her hands as best she could for the cloak she had wrapped round herself in an effort to hide the scantiness of her attire, then sat down on the foot of the divan, facing her enemy.
“Helen R-ray-nor-r! You believe zat of my men, mine, over-r whom I r-reign as queen? Ze bar-r-bar-rians sur-r-rounded us, zey thr-r-rew ze spear-r fr-rom behind my men. Zen I give ze or-r-der to Al-Asad, who is my bodyguar-r-d.” She pointed to the Nubian, who stood just outside the door, watching the rocks in the hope of seeing Yussuf pass amongst them. “I tell him to save you from ze savage Bedouins.”
“But why me alone?” Helen drew the silken coverlet about her and got to a sitting position on the edge of the divan, whilst Namlah watched the battle of wills between the beautiful women from the recess, which was just behind Zarah’s back.