His angry glance grew darker with suspicion, but her eyes were downcast.
"Come round in front," he ordered harshly, and she had once more to submit herself to the Emir's appraising glance.
He and Captain Dove had still much to say to each other, too, while she stood patiently there, like a slave for sale. They fell to arguing with much heat some point in dispute between them, an argument she could not follow since they were speaking some jargon of Arabic strange to her. But she knew very well that it was about her they were wrangling, and a cold fear clutched cruelly at her heart.
At last, however, the Emir appeared to give in to his visitor, and Captain Dove, after a final ineffectual snatch at the flagon, got on to his feet, since even that hint seemed to be thrown away on his host.
"We'll get off to the ship again," he said in English, and Sallie could almost have cried aloud in relief from such sore suspense.
"May I go back to the tent—just for a minute—to say good-bye?" she begged in a breathless whisper, and turned and ran.
The Emir's wife glanced eagerly up at her as she reappeared.
"I'm going back on board now," Sallie told her with shining eyes, which suddenly grew dim as she thought of the other girl's loneliness there. She sank on her knees beside the couch, and the Emir's wife, leaning forward, slipped a frail arm about her neck; and so they two, sisters in trouble, kissed each other good-bye for all time.
"You'll be sure to send the boat—soon after midnight?" the other asked, but with no shadow of doubt in her low, weak tones.
"I'll come myself, if I possibly can," Sallie promised, "and, if not, I'll send a safe friend—soon after midnight."