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“‘I say, aren’t we going?’ said Marnier’s voice in my ear.

“I cursed the day when I had agreed to take him with me, leaped down to the earth, and struggled towards the door. As we neared it the girl sidled down the room till she was exactly in front of Marnier. Then she danced before him, smiling with her immense eyes, which she fixed steadily upon him, and bending forward her pretty head, covered with a cloth of silver handkerchief.

“‘Give her something,’ I said to him, laughing, as he stared back at her grimly.

“He thrust his hand into his pocket, found a franc, stuck it awkwardly against her oval forehead, and followed me out.

“When we were in the sandy street he walked a few steps in silence, then stood still, and, to my surprise, stared back at the dancing-house. Then he put his hand to his head.

“‘Is the air having its alcoholic effect?’ I asked in joke.

“As I spoke a handsome Arab, splendidly dressed in a pale blue robe, red gaiters and boots, and a turban of fine muslin, spangled with gold, passed us slowly, going towards the dancing-house. He cast a glance full of suspicion and malice at Marnier.

“‘What’s up with that fellow?’ I said, startled.

“The Arab went on, and at that moment the faithful Safti joined us. He never left me long out of his sight in these outlandish places.

“‘That is the Batouch Sidi, the brother of the Caid of Beni-Kouidar,’ he said. ‘Algia, the dancer to whom Monsieur Henri has just given money, is his chere amie. But as the government has just made him a sheik, he dares not have her in his house for fear of the scandal. So he has put her with the dancers. That is why she dances, to deceive everyone, not to make money. She is not as the other dancers. But everyone knows, for Batouch is mad with jealousy. He cannot bear that Algia should dance before strangers, but what can he do? A sheik must not have a scandal in his dwelling.’

“We walked on slowly. When we got to the door of the ‘Rendezvous des Amis’ Marnier stood still again, and looked down the deserted, moonlit camel market.

“‘I never knew air like this,’ he said in a low voice.

“And once more he expelled the air from his lungs, and drew in a long, slow breath, as a man does when he has finished his dumbbell exercise in the morning.

“‘Don’t drink too much of it,’ I said. ‘Remember what the aumonier told us!’

“Marnier looked at me. I thought there was something apprehensive in his eyes. But he said nothing, and we turned in.

“The next day I rode out with Safti into the desert to visit a sacred personage of great note in the Sahara, Sidi El Ahmed Ben Daoud Abderahmann. To my relief Marnier declined to come. He said he was tired, and would stroll about the city. When we got back at sundown the innkeeper handed me a note. I opened it, and found it was from the aumonier, saying that he would be greatly obliged if I would call and see him on my return, as he had various little curiosities which he would be glad to show me. Marnier was not in the inn, and, as I had nothing particular to do, I walked at once to the aumonier’s house. As I have said, it was the last in the town. The dancing-house was on the opposite side of the way; but the aumonier’s dwelling jutted out a little farther into the desert, and looked full on a deep depression of soft sand bounded by a big dune, which loomed up like a couchant beast in the fading yellow light.

“The aumonier met me at his door, and escorted me into a pleasant room, where his collection of Arab weapons, coins, and old vases, cups, and various utensils, dug up, he told me, at Tlemcen, was arranged. But to my surprise he scarcely took time to show it to me before he said: