“Then I went to Marnier’s room, and knocked. I felt sure, but I thought I would make sure before going to my room.
“No answer.
“I knocked again loudly.
“Again no answer.
“Then I turned the handle, and entered.
“The room was empty. I glanced round quickly. The small window was open. All the windows of the inn were barred, but, as I learned later, a bar in Marnier’s had been broken, and was not yet replaced when we arrived at Beni-Kouidar. In consequence of this it was possible to squeeze through into the arcade outside. This was what Marnier had done. My precise, gentlemanly, reserved, and methodical acquaintance had deliberately given me the slip by sneaking out of a window like a schoolboy, and creeping round the edge of the inn to the fosse that lay in the shadow of the sand dimes. As I realised this I realised his danger.
“I ran to my room, fetched my revolver, slipped it into my pocket, and hurried to the front door. The landlord heard me trying to undo the bolts, and came out protesting.
“‘M’sieu cannot go out into the storm.’
“‘I must.’
“‘But m’sieu does not know what Beni-Kouidar is like when the sand is blown on the wind. It is enfer. Besides, it is not safe. In the darkness m’sieu may receive a mauvais coup.’