“Uzanne?—Uzanne?” repeated the Captain reflectively. “Ah! I remember, I have heard of him. He was a survivor of Deschanel’s detachment, and a valiant fellow. Yes, he shall bear the message.”
“In an hour it will be ready,” the General said; then, turning, he strode back into the Hall of the Divan, his spurs jingling, and his scabbard trailing over the polished floor that still bore ugly stains of blood.
“So you really intend setting out again on this fool’s errand?” Carmier asked, when his General had gone.
“I do. I must—I will save her.”
“Bah! Was she not a sorceress, a priestess of that strange secret society the Senousya, of which we can discover nothing; was she not indeed an inmate of Hadj Absalam’s harem, a—”
“Nothing you can allege against her can deter me from the strenuous endeavour I am about to make,” I interrupted, with firmness. “She shall not be snatched from me, for I love her. Be she innocent or guilty, I will save her!”
But, with a cynical smile, he shrugged his shoulders, and, turning on his heel, walked away.