“I must be getting back. They will miss me,” she said wistfully. “How shall I be able to pass you by dozens of times a day, Henri, maybe sit down at the same table with you, and betray no sign of recognition? I really don’t know.”
“But you must, darling! You must—for both our sakes,” he argued, and then he once again clasped her in his strong arms and smothered her with his fierce passionate caresses.
Hubert Waldron witnessed it all. He held his breath and bit his lip. Who could be this mysterious Henri—this secret lover whom Lola had met by appointment in that far-off, out-of-the-world place?
He recollected that Lola had flirted with him and that she had amused herself by allowing him to pay her compliments. Yet the existence of one whom she loved so devotedly in secret was now revealed, and he stood aghast, filled with chagrin at the unexpected revelation.
The pair, locked in each other’s arms, moved slowly forward in his direction.
She was urging him to allow her to get back, but he was persuading her to remain a little longer.
“Think of all the long weeks and months we have been parted, sweetheart!” he was saying. “Besides we must not speak again until we get to Cairo. I shall remain at the little hotel over to-morrow. But it would be far too dangerous for us to meet. One or other of the passengers might discover us.”
“Yes,” she sighed; “we shall be compelled to exercise the greatest caution always. All my future depends on the preservation of our secret.”
Waldron slipped from his hiding-place and away behind another tree, just before the pair passed the spot where he had been standing.
He watched them as they went forth into the light, and at last realised that the man was tall and slim, though, of course, he could not see his face.