Nur-el-Din let her eyes rest on his face for a moment.
"You have honest eyes," she said, "your eyes are not German...
pardon me, I would not insult your race... I mean they are
different from the rest of you. One day, perhaps, those eyes of
yours may persuade me to answer your question. But I don't know
you well enough yet!"
She broke off abruptly, shaking her head.
"I am tired," she sighed and all her haughty manner returned,
"let the old woman show me to my room. I will take dejeuner with
you at one o'clock."
Desmond bowed and stepping out into the hall, called the
housekeeper. Old Martha shuffled off with the girl, leaving
Desmond staring with vacant eyes into the fire. He was conscious
of a feeling of exultation, despite his utter weariness and
craving for sleep. This girl, with her queenly ways, her swiftly
changing moods, her broad gusts of passion, interested him
enormously. If she were the quarry, why, then, the chase were
worth while! But the end? For a brief moment, he had a vision of
that frail, clinging figure swaying up against some blank wall
before a file of levelled rifles.
Then again he seemed to see old Mackwayte lying dead on the
landing of the house at Seven Kings. Had this frail girl done
this unspeakable deed? To send her to the gallows or before a
firing-squad--was this to be the end of his mission? And the
still, small voice of conscience answered: " Yes! that is what
you have come here to do! "
Old Martha came shuffling down the staircase.
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