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Page 58
But Lady Claire stood still. Billy had fairly forgotten all about
her, and now as he turned suddenly from the clowning with her
chaperon, he found her gaze being transferred from his picture to
himself. It was a very steady gaze, calm-eyed and deliberate.
"I'm afraid you're making game of us!" she said, in her musical,
high-bred tones, her clear eyes disconcertingly upon him. "Aren't
you?" she gently demanded.
"That's not fair." Billy was uncomfortable and looked away in haste.
He felt a grin coming.
Perhaps he was a shade too late, for Lady Claire laughed suddenly
and with a note of curious delight.
"You're _too_ amusing!" she said. "What made you?... How did you
think of it all?... Are you just beginning?"
"Oh, I began twenty years ago," he smiled back, "but I haven't done
anything in the meantime."
Again she laughed with that ring of mischievous delight. "However
you could think of it all! I shan't tell on you--but she'll _never_
be done wondering." She turned away, her pretty face still bright
with humor, and then she turned back hesitantly toward him.
"It _is_ hot here in this sun," she said. "It _can't_ be good for
you. Shall we drive you back?"
She had lovely eyes, dark, smoky-blue under black lashes, and when
they held a gentle, half-shy, half-proud invitation, as they did
then, they were very unsettling eyes.... And it was hot on that
infernal camp stool. And there was a crick in the back of his neck
and his errand was glaringly a fool's errand....
He half rose, and as he did so the door in the palace opened a crack
and a veiled face peered furtively out. Billy sat down again.
"No, thank you," he said, "I think I'd better do a little more of
this."
In such light ways is the gate of opportunity closed and opened.
Everything that happened afterwards with such appalling
startlingness hung on that instant's decision.
For the moment he felt himself a donkey as Lady Claire turned
quietly away and the victoria rattled off with brisk finality. Then
the door opened again, and again the girl peered out, and furtively,
stealthily slipped just outside.
Billy caught up a pad and a pencil and called out a request to
sketch her, holding up some silver. Instantly she assumed a fixed
pose, with a nervous giggle behind her veil, and he came quickly
near her, pretending to be drawing. Her dark, curious eyes met his
with questioning significance, and he threw all caution aside and
plunged into his demands.
Did she want to earn money, he said quickly, in the Arabic he had
been preparing for such an encounter, and on her eager assent, he
asked if there was a foreign lady in the palace, an American.
The flash of her eyes told him that he had struck the mark before
her half-frightened words came.
His heart quickened with excitement. He might have suspected this
thing--but he had not really believed it! He asked, stammering in
his haste, "Does she want to get away?"
Again that knowing nod and the quick assent. Then the girl burst
into low-toned speech, glancing back constantly through the door she
held nearly shut behind her. Billy was forced to shake his head. It
was one thing to have picked up a little casual Arabic, and another,
and horribly different, thing to comprehend the rapid outpourings
behind that muffling veil.
Baffled, he went hurriedly on with his own questionings. Was this
lady safe? Again the nod and murmur of assent. Did she want help?
Vehement the confirmation. He repeated, with careful emphasis, "I
will reward you well for your help," and this time the direct
simplicity of her reply was entirely intelligible:
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