But Baroudi did not come. And at last she returned through the dancing quarters, where her sense of nightmare deepened.
Again she did not sleep.
When day came, she felt really ill. Yet her body was still pulsing, her brain was still throbbing, with an activity that was like a fever within her. Directly after breakfast, which she scarcely touched, she again took a carriage and drove to Baroudi's house.
The sleepy Arab met her at the grille, and in an almost trembling voice she made enquiries.
"Gone away," was the reply.
"Gone? Where to?"
"Him gone to Luxor. Him got one dahabeeyah at Luxor."
"Gone to Luxor! When did he go?"
"We know last night."
"Did he get a note I sent him yesterday morning?"