“Tell him I will be with him at once.”
Martha hobbled away and Desmond turned to the girl.
“You heard what my housekeeper said? The man is here. I shall have to see him.”
Nur-el-Din, white to the lips, stood by the table, nervously twisting a little handkerchief.
“Non, non,” she said rapidly, “you must not see him. He has come to find me. Ah! if he should find out what I have done... you will not give me up to this man?”
“You need not see him,” Desmond expostulated gently, “I will say you are not here! Who is this Mortimer that he should seek to do you harm?”
“My friend,” said the dancer sadly, “he is my evil genius. If I had dreamt that you knew him I would never have sought refuge in your house.”
“But I’ve never set eyes on the man in my life!” exclaimed Desmond.
The dancer shook her head mournfully at him.
“Very few of you have, my friend,” she replied, “but you are all under his orders, n’est-ce pas?”