“Perhaps,” he said—“perhaps it was the Devil come for her. You remember! She said last night, if he came, she’d go with him.”
The candle dropped from Lemaire’s shaking hand.
“Damn you! Why d’you talk like that?” he exclaimed furiously. “She must be somewhere about. Let’s have an absinthe. Perhaps she’s gone to the village.”
They had an absinthe and searched once more.
Presently Hadj, who was half mad with keef, joined them. The rumour of what was going forward had got about in the village; and other Arabs glided noiselessly through the night to share in the absinthe and the quest, for that night Lemaire forgot to lock up the bottle.
But the hostess of the inn at El-Kelf has not been seen again.
THE CRUCIFIXION OF THE OUTCAST
By W. B. YEATS
From The Secret Rose, by W. B. Yeats. Copyright, 1914, by the Macmillan Company.