He told her.
“Does the miracle man come from there?”
Absalem answered that no one knew. He had been much in Wasan, the sacred city of Morocco; but none knew his birthplace, his tribe, his name. Often he disappeared, no man could tell whither. But, doubtless, he made vast journeys. Some said that he had exhibited his snakes on the banks of the Nile, that he had gone with the pilgrim trains to Mecca, that he knew Khartoum as he knew Marakesh, and that he never ceased from wandering.
“What is his age?” Claire asked.
Absalem answered that he must be old, but that Time had no power over him.
“He miracle man; he live long as he wish.”
Last she asked when he would leave Tetuan.
“Perhaps this night. Perhaps to-morrow night, perhaps never. Perhaps he go already.”
“Already!”
Suddenly Claire moved out from the tent, and joined Renfrew, who was still watching her, and weaving lover's fancies about her white figure.