At the sight of him she sprang up and ran to
meet him with outstretched hands.
"Ah!" she cried, "comme je suis heureuse de vows voir! It is good
of you to come!"
And then, without any warning, she burst into tears and putting
her hands on the man's shoulders, hid her head against his chest
and sobbed bitterly.
Desmond took one of her hands, small and soft and warm, and
gently disengaged her. His mind was working clearly and rapidly.
He felt sure of himself, sure of his disguise; if this were an
exhibition of woman's wiles, it would find him proof; on that he
was resolved. Yet, dissolved in tears as she was, with her long
lashes glistening and her mouth twitching pitifully, the dancer
seemed to touch a chord deep down in his heart.
"Come, come," said Desmond gutturally, with a touch of bonhomie
in his voice in keeping with his ample girth, "you mustn't give
way like this, my child! What's amiss? Come, sit down here and
tell me what's the matter."
He made her resume her seat by the table and pulled up one of the
horsehair chairs for himself. Nur-el-Din wiped her eyes on a tiny
lace handkerchief, but continued to sob and shudder at intervals.
"Marie, my maid," she said in French in a broken voice, "joined
me here to-day. She has told me of this dreadful murder!"
Desmond stiffened to attention.
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