Presently, over the murmur of the crowd, came the thunder of a horse's hoofs; of someone riding at breakneck speed through one of the resounding arches leading into the market.
Pansy did not notice this. She realised nothing now but the half-naked, foaming horror at her feet.
Suddenly another cry rang through the market-place.
Fortunately for Le Breton's plans Pansy knew no Arabic or she would have recognised that cry as:
"The Sultan! The Sultan!"
For Casim Ammeh had had his vengeance, and now had come in pursuit of love.
The cry grew to such a roar of sound that it penetrated the world of dumb terror in which Pansy moved, and made her raise her eyes.
The crowd in the square had opened up, giving way to a khaki-clad man on a huge, prancing black stallion.
Across the market-place tortured blue eyes met fiery black ones.
Then it seemed to Pansy that she must be dreaming—a vision of heaven beyond this hell.