The cry of the mourner rose to high heaven as Zarah smote her breast, causing the doves and pheasants and other birds to rise in flocks, and the women near the water’s edge to look up from the business of the hour.
“Behold!” lied she brazenly. “Even some moons ago zose bar-r-bar-r-ians lay in wait for some of my people as zey r-ret-urned fr-r-om Hutah. Ze men zey killed, ze women and ze little, little child-r-ren zey took away wiz zem. Am I not ze mozer of my people? Could I r-refuse my men when zey cr-ried to be r-revenged? Ah, fr-r-ien’ of my happy schooldays, ze ways of ze deser-r-t a-r-r-e not ze ways of ze city. Let us not talk of zings so sad. Listen! I have some idea. Do you r-r-emember how Miss Jane used to scold when we said zat?”
She did not give Helen time to say if she did or did not remember, but turned her head and said something in his own dialect to the Nubian. He raised his hand and walked to the edge of the platform, as unwitting as his mistress of Namlah the body-woman, who stood in the doorway of the recess, gesticulating violently and shaking her head.
Helen looked at her quietly and then turned and looked out through the doorway, wondering what Zarah could have said to awaken such perturbation in Namlah’s heart.
“What is the great idea, Zarah?”
Zarah smiled bewitchingly, her teeth flashing, her eyes as soft as a gazelle’s. “I will r-r-repeat ze invitation to ze Englishman—ah, I cannot pr-r-o-nounce ze name—zrough you. You will wr-r-ite him a letter to ask him to come to stay for ze little time and to take you back wiz him—yes? You will write, will you not, my dear fr-r-ien’?”
Love, the master-key to all problems between woman and woman, unlocked the door which hid the secret workings of Zarah’s mind from Helen. The request explained Namlah’s agitation. Zarah had evidently told the Nubian about the letter of invitation.
“How will you send the letter?”
It seemed a trusty messenger would deliver the letter at Hutah and would wait to act as escort to the Englishman on the return journey through the desert.
“But Ralph Trenchard may be ill, or he may not be able to come.” Helen watched the other’s face intently as she spoke. “The messenger can escort me to Hutah instead of taking the letter.”