"And the Sitt?" Michael said. "How did she get away?"
"She gave minute instructions to Hassan early in the evening." Abdul salaamed. "Aiwah, honourable Effendi, you will be relieved of a double anxiety—the Sitt was greatly afraid."
"Yes, Abdul, I'm thankful, very thankful." Michael stretched out his arms and breathed a deep breath of freedom. Thank God she had gone, gone of her own free will! This, then, was the meaning of his sense of liberation. The white tent was there no longer. It had vanished.
Then he remembered having stirred in his sleep. The bells he had heard were the bells on the animals which were carrying the frightened Millicent. Her hijrah had not been achieved without affecting his subconscious mind.
Meanwhile, Abdul was studying his master's mind. He was reading his thoughts as one reads a story from the illustrations of a book. He saw relief and freedom—and, above all, thankfulness. His master's besetting sin was his dislike of scenes, his hypersensitiveness in the matter of causing pain to others, the desire to surround himself with happiness.
"Gehenna to the harlot!" he said to himself. "Insha Allah, she will regret last night's work, even though it may benefit the Effendi!"
"You will be lonely, Effendi," he said. "But without the honourable Sitt your work will progress. Women are a hindrance to men's minds, an anxiety."
"I am well pleased, Abdul. We were not lonely before Madam came."
"Aiwah, Effendi, there was the prospect of the meeting with the honourable Sitt. Now there is desolation."
"I did not seek the meeting, Abdul. All is well."