“It was the only way,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders. “To obtain me the Sultan’s men murdered my kinsmen, and put our village to the sword. Mine is but a mild revenge.”
“Of what tribe art thou?” I enquired eagerly, detecting in her soft sibillations an accent entirely unfamiliar.
“I am of the Kel-Oui, and was born at Lebo.”
“At Lebo!” I cried eagerly. “Then thou knowest of the Three Dwarfs of Lebo?”
“Yea. And furthermore I have learnt their secret, a secret which shall be thine alone in return for safe conduct to my people.”
“But my clansmen are in deadly feud with thine,” I observed reflectively.
“Does that affect thy decision?” she enquired in a tone of reproach.
I reflected, and saw how utterly impossible it seemed that I myself could escape the vigilance of these ever-watchful guards of the many gates which lay between myself and freedom. I glanced at the frail girl lying upon my poor ragged divan, her girdle and throat blazing with jewels, and felt my heart sink within me.
“Thou thinkest that because I am a woman I have no courage,” she observed, her keen eyes reading my secret thoughts. “But hist! listen!”
I held my breath, and as I did so the footsteps of men fell upon the flags of the courtyard. We peered forth through the chink in the wooden shutter, which at night closed my window, and saw two men carrying a bier, followed by two gigantic negro eunuchs. Upon the bier was a body covered by a cloth; and as it passed we both caught sight of gay-coloured silks and lace. Below the black pall a slim white hand, sparkling with diamonds, moved convulsively, and as the cortège passed, a low stifling cry reached us—the despairing cry of a woman.