“She went down just as you came up. I wonder you didn’t pass her on the steps. I always like my linen washed at dawn, it smells so much the sweeter. She will be up in quite a little while to get my early cup of tea ready.”
Helen lied quietly, quickly, bravely, to save the little servant, and sighed with relief when Zarah swept out on to the platform in great wrath. “Namlah!” she called, the mountains echoing the sweetness of her voice. “Namlah! Namlah! ta al huna! ta al huna!” and turned back into the room when Namlah did not come.
“She hides somewhere, listening to our speech, the lynx-eyed, fox-eared daughter of pigs,” she stormed in Arabic, taking a step towards the recess. She was half-way across the room and Namlah half dead with terror, when Helen gave a piercing cry.
The lion-cub, roaming about as was its wont at dawn, had heard its mistress’s voice and, bounding up the steps, had hurled itself into the room and on to Helen’s divan. After her one cry of fear, she lay quite still, whilst the tawny beast, with lashing tail, sniffed at her neck, then with a low growl flung itself off the divan and hurled itself at Zarah’s feet.
“A strange place zis, Helena, wiz st-r-range customs an’ str-r-ange pets,” said Zarah casually, holding out her hand at arm’s length, over which the lion-cub jumped.
“But is that lion safe?”
“So far-r-r, yes! When it is not, zen we kill it; zose zat do not obey do not live long her-r-e. I am sleepy. I will go down an’ you will dine wiz me to-night—yes? Au revoir! Zink of all I say an’ be wise, zat woman can wait.”
She walked slowly out of the room, taking no notice of Al-Asad.
He came to the doorway and looked in upon the beautiful white girl and frowned as he turned away.