“How didst thou know I had lost that which thou hadst entrusted to my care?” I asked, much interested in this remarkable phase of the extraordinary affair.
“I ascertained that when thou wert a slave in the Fáda thou hadst not the Crescent. Then I learnt of the circumstances of thy fall into the hands of the Kel-Fadê, and it was at once apparent that it was they who had filched it from thee.”
“Thou didst not know how I recovered it?” I asked, transported by her beauty.
“No,” she answered. “Tell me; I am interested to learn the truth;” and with charming ingenuousness she imprinted upon my cheek another warm, affectionate kiss.
Briefly, I told her of my journey after my adventurous escape from Agadez, of the dastardly attempt to take my life, my strange rescue, and my wanderings in the gloomy subterranean passages beneath the Sheikh’s palace. As I related how I had suddenly entered the hall where the conspirators of the Senousya had assembled to practise their mystic rites, she grew excited and alarmed, eagerly drinking in every word of my description. When I had finished, she placed her hand upon my arm, and said with intense earnestness —
“Tell no one of this, O Ce-cil! Thine eyes have beholden, and thou hast, alas! learned the secrets of the League of Terror. I fear that the punishment of eavesdroppers may be meted out to thee. Know thou that the terrible vengeance of the Senousya is so far-reaching that the man or woman it condemneth can never escape a violent death, even though he or she may flee beyond seas unto the uttermost corners of the earth. Wherever shineth the sun, there also are emissaries of the Senousya. Therefore take every precaution for thy safety; tell no one of the knowledge thou hast thus acquired; and upon the subject of the Holy War remain always silent as the grave. Take warning, and exercise caution — for my sake. The vengeance is always fatal!”
“I will heed thy words,” I said. “But I care naught for enemies while I am nigh unto thee;” and as I drew her slowly towards me, her lips met mine in a warm, entrancing caress, enough to make any man’s senses whirl.
“I — I wish we could meet daily,” she declared wistfully; “but for thee to tread the enchanted ground of my pavilion is impossible. At the peril of our lives, and by the connivance of those placed as janitors over me, am I enabled to-night to speak with thee for one brief hour, to hear thee tell me of thy love.” Then, grasping my hand tightly, and gazing with a fervent love-look into my face, she added, “For days, for weeks have I been longing to see thee, hoping against hope. In the dim, silent seclusion of mine own apartment strange rumours and distorted reports have reached me regarding thy fate. Although those I employed lied unto me, I felt confidence in thee. I knew thou wouldst strain every nerve to obtain knowledge of the Great Secret that is essential to our happiness. We meet now only to part again; to part perhaps for a few days, perhaps for many moons. Let me dwell within thy memory, so that thou wilt ever remember that she who loveth thee followeth thee unseen, and that all her trust is in thine own brave heart.”
She spoke with the fierce passion of love, and in her fine brilliant eyes tears were welling. I was silent in the devout worship of my entrancing idol — this woman whose face was perfect in its beauty, whose supple figure and exquisite grace charmed me, and whose soft, tuneful Arabic sounded as sweetest music. With her slight form in my embrace, her cheek, fresh as an English girl’s, lying upon my breast, her long dark unplaited hair straying over my white burnouse, she filled me with a restful, dreamy languor, a feeling of perfect enchantment and bliss, enhanced by the heavy perfumes and the sensuousness of her luxuriant surroundings.
“While wandering afar, the thought of thine affection hath given me heart; thou art always my Pole Star, my light, my guide,” I said, enraptured. “Though I have failed to obtain the knowledge which I sought, it was purely owing to the fickleness of fortune.”
“Yes,” she answered gravely. “I know thou hast done thy best. Yet there are still means by which thou canst ascertain the truth, and elucidate the Great Mystery.”
“How?”
“By becoming one of us; by bearing arms under the green banner of Hadj Absalam, and accompanying us to Agadez.”
“Art thou actually on thy way thither?” I asked, amazed. “Surely it is dangerous?”
“Dangerous only for the Sultan of the Ahír,” she laughed.
“I cannot understand,” I said. “What is the object of thy journey?”
“The same as the object of all our expeditions,” she answered, the smile dying from her lips. “The trade of the Ennitra is marked always by rapine and murder, plunder and bloodshed;” and she shuddered.
“Do thy people intend fighting?” I asked.
“Hearken, and I will give thee explanation,” she said excitedly. “For many moons hath Hadj Absalam contemplated an attack upon the Sultan of the Ahír, and the looting of the great Fáda wherein thou wert held a slave. At last the expedition hath been arranged, and is now being carried out. Divided into four sections, our people, mustering all their strength for the supreme effort, have stealthily moved hither, and are now encamped at various points on the border of the Sultan’s territory, ready to advance upon Agadez like swarms of locusts at the moment the drum of victory is conveyed unto them. Armed to the teeth, and eager for a struggle that must be brief though deadly, they are awaiting the completion of our plans. Two days hence all will be ready, the drum that beateth us to arms will be carried forth, our tents will be packed, and, acting in conjunction with the three other forces of our fighting men, we shall advance, dealing blows swift and terrible among a people who little dream of the approach of an enemy, and are entirely unprepared.”
“Hast thou actually a sufficient force to attack the almost impregnable kasbah of Agadez?” I asked incredulously.
“Yes. In two days the green standard will be raised, the drum will be sent round to the three other camps, and with one accord shall we sweep onward to the great stronghold of the Ahír.”
“And thou desirest that I should become a Bedouin of the Ennitra — an outlaw of the Sahara?” I said.
“Thou must!” she answered, with enthusiasm, her slim lingers closing tightly upon my hand. “Dost thou not see that I have obtained a respite for thee, only on condition that thou throwest in thy lot with us?”
“What is this mysterious influence which Hadj Absalam declareth hath been transferred unto me?” I inquired, eager to ascertain the meaning of the strange words she had so boldly addressed to the robber Sheikh.
But she laughed, and, evading my question, answered with light coquetry —
“The power that draweth us together; the influence that causeth us to love each other.”
“But why didst thou urge thy Ruler to compel me to become a freebooter?”
“It was my last extremity,” she said. “I pleaded for thee, and — almost failed. To fight beside us is thine only chance of reaching Agadez, and of finding he whom thou seekest.”
“To be near unto thee I am prepared to join thy people, even though they are mine enemies,” I said, as she looked into my eyes with trusting gaze.
“Although thou wilt be near me, thou must never seek to have speech with me,” she exclaimed quickly. “We meet here at imminent risk, but we must not again invite the wrath of those who desire thy death. To thee I must be as a stranger, for remember that thou art a Roumi, and thy very glance defileth mine unveiled face!” and she laughed lightly.
“Ah! the religious prejudices of thy people are indeed curious,” I said. “How long must we affect this estrangement?”
“Until Agadez hath fallen, and thine errand be accomplished.”
“But if thou hast the Crescent in thy possession, canst thou not snap thy bonds and escape with me?”