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Page 123
"They look as if they were coming alive," he added.
The moon had come up over an obstructing roof and now flashed down
upon them; a ripple of light began to swim across the star-eyes in
the inky waters; a finger of quicksilver seemed to be playing over
the scarred faces of the granite goddesses.
"They never died," said Arlee positively. "They're just waiting
their time. Can't you see they know all about us?... They
particularly know that you are the most deceiving young man they
ever saw! Why didn't you tell me you were shot in the arm?" she
finished rapidly.
"What?... Where did you hear that?"
"Mr. Falconer enlightened me."
"I wish Falconer would keep his stories to himself," said Billy
ungratefully. "It's just a----"
"Scratch," said Arlee promptly. "That's always a hero's word for
it."
Billy turned scarlet. He felt hot back to his ears.
"And why did you tell me that you _happened_ to be painting outside
the palace?" went on the unsparing voice. "You let me think it was
all accident--and it was all you, just _you_!"
"Good Lord," groaned Billy, effecting merriment over his
discomfiture, "Is there anything else he told you?... Look here, you
shouldn't have been talking about it," he said with sudden anxiety.
Arlee smiled. "It's all over," she said. "I told him everything."
Billy's heart missed a beat, and then hurried painfully to make up
for it. He felt a curious constriction in his throat. He tried to
think of something congratulatory to say and was lamentably silent.
"Why did you deceive me so?" she continued mercilessly. "Because my
gratitude was so _obnoxious_ to you? Were you so afraid I would
insist upon flinging more upon you?"
"That's a horrid word, obnoxious," said Billy painfully.
"I thought so," thrust in a pointed voice.
"I only meant," he slowly made out, "that a sense of--of obligation
is a stupid burden--and I didn't want you to feel you had to be any
more friendly to me than your heart dictated. That is all. It was
enough for me to remember that I had once been privileged to help
you."
"You--funny--Billy B. Hill person," said the voice in a very serious
tone. Billy continued staring at the unwinking old goddess ahead of
him. "You take it all so for granted," laughed Arlee softly, "As if
it were part of any day's work! I go about like a girl in a
dream--or a girl _with_ a dream ... a dream of fear, of old palaces
and painted women and darkened windows. It comes over me at night
sometimes. And then I wake and could go down on my knees to you....
I suppose there isn't any more danger from him?" she broke off to
half-whisper quickly.
"He's sick in the Cairo hospital," Billy made haste to inform her.
"I found out by accident. I understand he has a bad fever. So I
think he'll be up to no more tricks--and I'm out the satisfaction
of a little heart-to-heart talk."
"Oh, I told you you couldn't," she cried quickly. "You would make
him too angry. He isn't just--sane."
"Then all I have to do in Egypt is to hunt up my little Imp," said
Billy. "I must see the little chap again--before I go."
He waited--uselessly as he had foretold. She said nothing, and if
the glance he felt upon him was of inquiry he did not look about to
meet it. He was still staring a saturnine Pasht out of countenance.
There was a pause.
Then, "However were you able to think of it all?" said Arlee in slow
wonder. "However were you able to think such an impossible thought
as my imprisonment?"
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