Daniel was drying himself after his bath early next morning when Hussein came to tell him that the soldier of the Frontier Patrol craved permission to ask whether the reply was ready, as he was anxious to start back as early as possible, so as not to delay the messenger who wished to leave for Cairo at noon.

He therefore fastened a towel around his waist, and, striding into the adjoining room, scribbled his answer on a half-sheet of paper.

“Excuse scrawl,” he wrote, “but am having my bath, and the messenger, whom I’ve kept all night, can’t wait any longer. All right, I’ll turn up within a week or so and take on the job you so flatteringly offer. No knighthood, please. D. L.”

He thrust the sheet into an envelope, and with a broad smile addressed it: “The Rt. Hon. The Earl Blair of Hartlestone, G.C.B., G.C.M.G., etc.; His Britannic Majesty’s High Commissioner and Minister Plenipotentiary.” He felt that, since he was now to be a respectable member of society, he ought to accustom himself at once to the world’s accepted ways, even though they seemed to him to belong to the realm of comic opera. High-sounding titles always made him laugh. He could not explain it: it was just a clear sense of actuality, a looking at things as they are and not as ceremony presents them.

Now that his mind was made up, and Lord Blair’s invitation accepted, he felt no longer troubled; and, his reply having been dispatched, he set about packing his belongings and rounding off his affairs with the greatest equanimity.

To his great regret, however, he failed to bring the matter of the feud to a successful conclusion. The chief members of the family opposed to Sheikh Ali would not be reconciled; and all that Daniel’s eloquence and persuasion could accomplish was an agreement to maintain the status quo during the Sheikh’s lifetime. But as the old man was already bending under the weight of years, and as his hopes were concentrated upon the succession of his son, IbrahÎm, this compromise was not very satisfactory.

Daniel’s departure was the cause of much regret in the Oasis, for he had come to be regarded by the inhabitants as a loyal and helpful friend, one who was full of wisdom and benevolence, and who could doctor both their souls and their bodies. But in the case of Sheikh Ali the parting was the occasion of deep sorrow; and the old man endeavoured on these last days to pour into his ears all the good advice he could command.

“This is my parting gift,” said Daniel to him, when at length the hour of setting out had arrived. “I give you my promise that when you go to rest with your fathers, I will support with all my might the candidature of your son, IbrahÎm, for the office of Sheikh.”

The old man spread his arms wide. “God be praised!” he cried. “Now am I at peace, my dear.”

A crowd of natives followed his caravan for some distance, the men firing their guns in the air and shouting words of encouragement and blessing to him; and when at last the desert hills had swallowed him, he felt that he had set behind him a phase of his life the happiness of which he could never hope to enjoy again.

The journey was accomplished at a moderate speed, and on the fifth morning, soon after sunrise, they sighted the Pyramids in the distance ahead of them, backed by the green belt of the Nile valley. The early sun now struck full in their eyes; and Daniel, turning down the brim of his hat, did not often look far in advance of his camel’s nose until he was within some two miles of the Pyramids.

As he jogged along at the head of his caravan, his three yellow dogs trotting after him, his thoughts began to be coloured by a gentle excitement; and, for the first time, the future seemed to him to hold a variety of interesting possibilities.

After all, he said to himself, a man should rise above his surroundings; and indeed his philosophy would be proved a mere pretence if his happiness were dependent upon circumstances. Why should he dread the restlessness of Cairene life? If there were to be unease it would arise from within, not from without; and the citadel of his soul, of his individuality, would hardly be a fortress worth holding if the clamour of the world outside should be able to arouse an answering and traitorous disturbance within. Even in Cairo he would remain master of himself: one can be free anywhere.

“One can be free anywhere” ... Why, those were the words used by Muriel Blair when he had first met her; and he had laughed at them. Well, certainly she had not appeared to be very free as she sat there in the moonlight, with the diamonds sparkling around her throat. She did not know what freedom was: she was a product of the social conventions. He wondered whether she had taken his advice and had endeavoured to break loose from them.

He was aroused from his reverie by the sound of horses’ hoofs, and, looking up, he saw a man and two women approaching him at a fast trot. Behind them were the Pyramids, and in the far distance the minarets and domes of the great city rose into the splendour of the sunlight from above the opalescent mist of the morning, backed by the shadows of the eastern hills. The air now in the first days of December was cool and sharp; and there was a sparkle in the sunshine which only this time of day enjoys.

The picture was exquisite, and for a moment his eyes rested upon it entranced. Then he turned his attention to the three figures coming towards him, and, with sudden excitement, he recognized the foremost of the three as Lady Muriel.

She reined in her horse and waved her hand. “I guessed it was you,” she cried.

Without waiting for his camel to kneel, Daniel slid from the high saddle and dropped to the ground.

“Why, what are you doing out here at this time of day?” he asked her, as, leading his camel behind him, he hastened to her side and grasped her hand. “I’m mighty glad to see you.”

She turned to her companions, Mr. and Mrs. Benifett Bindane, and introduced them to Daniel. She had been spending the night at Mena House Hotel, she explained, where the Bindanes were staying, and the fresh morning air having aroused her before sunrise, she had had an early breakfast and had come out for a canter over the desert.

“I spotted you a long way off,” she said. “I knew you by your hat, if it is a hat.” Somehow she did not feel so shy of him as at their meeting at the Residency.

“I guess I’m going to shock you all in Cairo with that hat,” he laughed. “It’s an old friend, and old friends are best.”

“Am I an old friend?” she asked.

“Pretty old,” he answered. “I’ve known you for four years, you must remember.”

She told him that her father was not expecting his arrival for some days, and that she feared no room had yet been prepared for him.

“But I’m not going to stay in the house,” he answered quickly. “You didn’t think I’d come and live in the town, did you?”

Muriel felt somewhat relieved. Even if the feelings of ease in his society which at the moment she was experiencing were to last, she had no particular wish to have him always about the house, nor present at every meal.

“Well, where are you going to live?” she asked.

He glanced around him. They were standing upon a level area of hard sand, in the shadow of a spur of rock which formed the head of a low ridge. The broken surface of the desert was spread out to their gaze to north, east and west; but the rocks shut off the view towards the south. The caravan had strayed considerably from the beaten track; and the sand hereabouts was smooth and unmarked, except by their own footprints and by those of the desert larks which were now singing high overhead.

“Where am I going to live?” he repeated, suddenly coming to a decision, in his impulsive way. “Why right here where we stand. It shall be my home: just where I shook hands with you.”

Muriel glanced at him, wondering whether his words contained any deep significance; but, by his smiling face, she judged that they did not.

He looked about him with interest. “It couldn’t be bettered,” he exclaimed. “It’s a good mile-and-a-half back from the Pyramids, and well out of the way of people. I’ll ride in to Mena House on my camel every morning, and take the tram into Cairo from there.”

Mr. Bindane stared at him open-mouthed.

“Rather far away, isn’t it?” he commented. “A bit lonely at nights.”

Daniel laughed. “I suppose there’s something wrong with me,” he answered. “I’m always happiest alone.”

Kate Bindane picked up her reins. “I think that’s the bird, Benifett, my love,” she remarked, “in fact the screeching peacock.”

Her husband looked blankly at her.

“‘The bird’,” Kate explained; “a theatrical term indicating peremptory dismissal.”

By this time the train of camels was within fifty yards of them; and Daniel called out to his men to halt. His servant Hussein came forward, and took charge of his camel.

“I’ll pitch my camp at once,” he said to Muriel. “Then I can go and announce myself to your father this afternoon.”

Acting on an impulse, a desire to establish friendly relations at the outset, Muriel dismounted from her horse. “Do let me stay and help you,” she suggested.

“Sure,” said Daniel. He called to one of his men to hold her horse.

Muriel turned and explained the situation to her friend Kate.

“The man’s practically going to live with us,” she whispered: “I’d better make friends.”

“Oh, rot!” said Kate. “He’s a picturesque lunatic, and you’re a bit mad yourself, and it’s a lovely day, and you’ve got nothing to do, and you know you look a dream in that riding kit.” She turned to her husband. “Come along, Benifett; her ladyship’s going to spend the day with the gent from the Wild West.”

Muriel laughed. “I’ll ride back to the hotel soon,” she said.

“No hurry, old sport,” replied Kate; and, after a few polite remarks to Daniel, she and her pliant husband trotted away.

Muriel at once began to survey the surroundings. She clambered up the sand drift to the top of the spur of rock, and there, in the fresh morning breeze, she stood with her hand shading her eyes, gazing over the undulating spaces of the desert. She felt like a child beginning a holiday at the seaside and investigating the possibilities of the sands.

The brisk morning air, the brilliant sunshine, the blue sky in which a few little puffs of white cloud were floating, the golden desert with its patches of strongly contrasted shadow, the distant green of the Nile valley, the far-away minarets of the city, the singing of the larks, the excited barkings of the three dogs, and the shouts of the camel-men: these sights and sounds seemed to be full of vivid life.

The shadow of her recent sorrow was quite removed from her mind; and though her furious attempts at gaiety of late had been sadly unsuccessful, this morning she felt that the world still contained wonderful possibilities of adventure, and it must be admitted that her fidelity to the memory of Rupert Helsingham was already indeterminate.

She turned and watched Daniel as he helped in the work of unloading the camels. He had taken off his coat, and his shirt sleeves were rolled back from his mighty arms. He was wearing a shabby old pair of riding breeches and gaiters; and the butt of his heavy revolver protruded from his hip pocket. His wide-brimmed hat was pulled over his bronzed face, and his pipe was in his mouth. He appeared to be lifting enormous loads with incredible ease; and just now he had set all his Bedouin laughing by walking off unceremoniously with a huge bundle of tenting, in the ropes of which one of the natives had become entangled, thereby dragging the astonished man across the sand as a puppy might be dragged at the end of a string.

Presently he came towards her, beckoning to her; and she slid down the sandy slope to meet him.

“Look here,” he said, “this’ll be a long job. I wish you’d let me send your horse away: I’ll be wanting the man who’s holding him soon.”

Muriel felt abashed, and something of her old hostility returned to her.

“I’d better go,” she said. “I’m in your way.”

“No,” he answered quickly “I don’t want you to go. I like you to be here—very much indeed.”

His obvious sincerity appeased her. He fetched a notebook and pencil from the pocket of his coat, and handed them to her.

“I’ll send your horse back to the hotel,” he said. “Please write a note to your friends.”

“What d’you want me to say?” she asked, taking the writing materials from him, her eyes curiously wide open, and having in them that characteristic expression of assumed and mischievous innocence.

“Say this,” he replied, and, with mock obedience, she wrote at his dictation: “Mr. Lane insists on my working. Please ’phone to my father that he has arrived, and that I will bring him to the Residency for tea. I’ll look in at the hotel in the early afternoon.”

“Anything else?” she asked with a laugh. “Won’t you send a few directions to my maid to pack my things, and order a car to take us into Cairo?”

“Yes,” he replied, without a smile. “You’d better add that.”

As she was writing he turned to the man who was holding her horse, and gave him his instructions; then, having handed him the note, he sent him galloping off.

“Now what?” asked Muriel. Unaccountably, her heart was beating fast.

“Now take your coat off, and come and help,” he said.

For a moment she hesitated, and a sensation very much like fear took hold of her; but, recollecting that he was nothing more than her father’s new diplomatic Secretary, she gave herself up to the enticement of the free and sparkling desert.

“Come on then,” she answered; “let’s get at it.” And pulling off her long white linen coat, she tossed it aside, with her gloves and crop, and rolled up the sleeves of her silk shirt.

Daniel looked gravely at her as she stood before him in her well-cut white breeches and brown top-boots; and for the first time Muriel could see admiration in his eyes. She was feeling reckless, and her boyish costume did not disconcert her: she was quite aware that her figure had nothing of that ungainliness about the hips and knees which so often makes the hunting-field a place of mirth.

He wisely offered no comment upon her appearance, much as he liked the graceful freedom and vigour which it suggested; and together they hastened over to the camels, Muriel pretending, as they went, to spit on her hands.

For a couple of hours they worked with the Bedouin: erecting the tents at the foot of the spur of rock; laying down the grass mats over the level floors of sand; unpacking the kitchen utensils, the enamel jugs and basins, the plates and dishes; setting up the camp bed and collapsible tables and chairs; arranging the books in the portable bookcase; and folding up the towels and blankets in the useful camel-boxes, or lockers, of which there was a good supply.

Muriel threw herself into the work with energy; and indeed she thought it one of the best games she had ever played. She hastened to and fro, laden with pots and pans; she crawled about on her hands and knees, banging away at doubtful pegs, or scooping up the sand around the skirting of the tents; she sorted out and arranged the tins and bottles of food and drink; and she helped to heap up stones and sand to make a sort of kennel for the dogs.

Her labours gave her little time for conversation, and indeed a great part of Daniel’s remarks had the nature of somewhat peremptory orders and instructions. When she dropped a glass bottle of jam, and smashed it, he scolded her not altogether in jest; and she was quite relieved to find that he did not make her lick it up, but, on the contrary, took care that she did not cut her fingers. And when she tripped over one of the tent-ropes and fell flat on her face he actually tempered his reproofs with kindly enquiries after her general health, and dusted her down with the greatest care. Every now and then, however, they had short opportunities of exchanging their news; and she then gave him a few of the less compromising details of the recent tragedy, at which he showed genuine and undisguised distress. But she had no inclination to cast a shadow on the morning’s strenuous enjoyment; and she did not linger on that sad subject.

“This is just like a game of Indians or something,” she said, as she sat herself upon a packing case to rest.

“Yes,” he answered, looking down at her with amusement. “That’s the funny thing: life is generally lived on such rigid lines that when one comes down to actuality it seems like pretence.”

He opened a tin of biscuits and a bottle of aerated water, and fetched a couple of tin mugs from the kitchen-tent; and, thus refreshed, they continued their work until midday.

By this time the camp was spick and span; and the three tents which served as dining-room, bedroom, and study, looked alluringly comfortable. They were decorated inside in the usual Arab manner, with bold designs and inscriptions cut out in bright coloured cotton-cloth stitched to the canvas; and the camp-chairs of green sail-cloth, the grass matting, and the plain wooden lockers, gave an appearance of clean and cool comfort which rejoiced Daniel’s heart. The kitchen, and the smaller tent which was to shelter his servant at night, both stood somewhat apart, tucked away behind a projecting arm of the rock.

“What are you going to do with your camels and men?” Muriel asked, as she stood in the sunlight, regarding her handiwork with satisfaction.

“One of the camels belongs to me,” he replied, “and its duties will be to take me to and from Mena House every day, and to fetch water from the well. My servant Hussein is going to remain with me; and his brother—the lean fellow with the squint—will look after the camel. All the rest of the bunch will be off back to the desert tomorrow morning, the lucky devils.”

Muriel looked at him questioningly. “Why ‘lucky’?” she asked. “Are you sick of your fellow countrymen already?”

He corrected himself quickly. “No,” he said; “I spoke without thought. As a matter of fact, I’m mighty glad to be here, thanks to you.”

“O, have I made any difference?” she queried, with an air of innocence.

He put his hands into his pockets, and, sucking at his pipe, regarded her thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said at length, “I think you’ve made all the difference.” And then, as though afraid that his words might be thought to bear a romantic interpretation, he added: “You’ve made the place look fine.”

Hussein now served an excellent little luncheon consisting of particular delicacies from the store-cupboard, washed down with refreshing lime-juice and soda; and Muriel did full justice to the meal. When she had devoured everything within sight, like a hungry schoolgirl, she yawned loudly; and Daniel, without further question, arranged some blankets on the floor at the side of the tent, and covered them with the sheepskin from his saddle.

She stared at him anxiously. “What’s that for?” she asked.

“For you to sleep on,” he said. “I’m going out to see about the men, and you’d better take the opportunity for a siesta. You look half asleep already.”

“I think I’d better not,” she replied. “We ought to be going soon.”

“Do what I tell you,” he commanded, pointing to the sheepskin; and, being indeed sleepy, she obeyed without further argument.

“Comfy?” he asked, as she lay down.

“Gorgeous,” she answered drowsily, and shut her eyes. When she opened them again a few moments later he had already left the tent; and, with a sigh of supreme happiness, she settled herself down to her repose.

Half an hour later Daniel looked into the tent and found her fast asleep. She was lying upon her back with her legs crossed, and one arm behind her head; and frankly he admitted to himself that she made a most delightful picture.

He went away again, and busied himself for half an hour in changing his clothes and having something of a wash. He routed out quite a respectable suit of grey flannels, and a white stock for his neck; and thus arrayed, he returned to the sleeper.

She lay now upon her side, her cheek resting on her two hands, her knees drawn up; and he confessed to himself that she looked adorable. He did not take his eyes from her for a full minute.

He went out for a walk, and surveyed with satisfaction the position which he had chosen for his camp; and it was half past three when he returned once more to Muriel.

This time she was lying on her back, with one knee raised, one arm across her breast, and the other flung out upon the floor. He sat himself down in the entrance of the tent, and lit his pipe. He did not look at her; for suddenly some door in his heart had opened, revealing a vista of thought which was new to him. The girl upon the sheepskin was no longer merely a charming picture: she was a woman sleeping in his tent after her labours in the camp. She was his companion, his mate, tired out with helping him. She was Eve, and he was Adam: and lo!—the desert was become the Garden of Paradise.

He got up from his chair with a start, and uttered an exclamation of dismay. His thoughts were riotous, mutinous, foolish: he had no business to think of her like that. He knew nothing about her—nothing, except that she did not belong truly to his system of life. Her little show of vigorous, outdoor activity was a pretence on her part, a mere experiment, a new experience filling an idle day. She was not a child of the open desert: she was a daughter of that busy, dressed up, painted old harlot, the World. Presently she would go back to her stuffy rooms and trim gardens, her dinner-parties and balls, her diamonds and frocks and frills, her conventions and mockeries of life.

When he turned to her again she had opened her eyes, and was looking at him in dazed wonderment. She sat up with a start, and the colour flushed into her face. Then she threw her head back and laughed happily.

“It’s nothing to laugh about,” he said, gloomily. “It’s nearly tea-time.”

She jumped to her feet, and began arranging her hair, which was falling down. “Why didn’t you wake me, man?” she asked.

“I was too busy,” he replied.

He spoke roughly, and she thought he was angry with her. “I slept like a log,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s no good being sorry,” he exclaimed. “The mischief’s done.”

“What d’you mean?” she asked, perplexed.

He did not answer. “I’ll go and get the camels,” he said. “Ever ridden a camel?”

She shook her head.

“Well, that’ll wake you up all right,” he laughed, and therewith left the tent.

She thought him very ungracious, after all the work she had done for him. “I suppose he wanted me to clean his boots,” she muttered.