She bent her head and pored over her book. In a moment Alston Lake's voice said, in French:
"In the garden! No, don't call her, Bibi, we will find her!"
"Look well on the stage that boy!" said Crayford's voice. "No mistake at all about its being picturesque over here."
Then the two men came in sight in the sunshine. Instantly Alston said, as he took off his Panama hat:
"You got my wire from Marseilles, Mrs. Charmian?"
"Oh, yes, I was expecting you! But I didn't know when. Mr. Crayford, how kind of you to come over here in September! No one ever does."
She had got up rather languidly and was holding out her hand.
"Guess it's the proper time to come," said Crayford, squeezing her hand with his dried-up palm. "See a bit of the real thing! I don't believe in tourist seasons at all. Tourists always choose the wrong time, seems to me."
By the look in his eyes as he glanced around him Charmian saw that he was under the spell of Djenan-el-Maqui.
"You must have tea, iced drinks, whatever you like," she said. "I'm all alone—as you see."