Desert Air | Page 5

behind me, Satan."'
"A softer look came into his sunburnt, wrinkled face.
"'Better take your friend away as soon as possible,' he added, 'or there
will be trouble.'"

III
"That night I found myself confronted by a Marnier whom I had never
seen before. The desert wine had gone to the lad's brain. That was
certain. No intonations of the Oxford don lurked in the voice. No

reminiscences of the Oxford 'High' clung about the manner. A man
sober and the same man drunk are scarcely more different than the
Marnier who had ridden with me up the sandy street of Beni-Kouidar
the previous day and the man who sat opposite to me at dinner in the
'Rendezvous des Amis' that night. I knew in a moment that the
aumônier was right, and that I must get the lad away at once from the
intoxicant which nature poured out over this far-away city. His eyes
were shining feverishly, and when I mentioned Mr. Ruskin in a casual
way he looked unutterably bored.
"'Ruskin and all those fellows seem awfully slow and out of place here,'
he exclaimed. 'One doesn't want to bother about them in the Sahara.'
"I changed the subject.
"'There doesn't seem very much to see here,' I said carelessly. 'We
might get away the day after to-morrow, don't you think?'
"He drew his brows down.
"'The horses won't be sufficiently rested,' he said curtly.
"'Oh yes; I fancy they will.'
"'Well, I don't fancy I shall. The long ride took it out of me.'
"'Turn in to-night, then, directly after dinner.'
"He looked at me with sharp suspicion. I met his gaze blandly.
"'I mean to,' he said after a short pause.
"I knew he was telling me a lie, but I only said: 'That's right!' and
resolved to keep an eye on him.
"Directly dinner was over he sprang up from the table.
"'Good-night,' he said.

"And before I could reply he was out of the salle-à-manger, and I heard
him tramp along the brick floor of the passage, go into his room, and
bang the door.
"The aumônier was getting up from his little table, and shaking the
crumbs from his soutane.
"'You are quite right, monsieur,' I said to him. 'I must get my friend
away.'
"'I shall be sorry to lose you,' replied the good priest. 'But--desert air,
desert air!'
"He shook his head, half wistfully, half laughingly, bowed, put on his
broad-brimmed black hat, and went out.
"After a moment I followed him. I stood in the doorway of the inn, and
lit a cigar. I knew Marnier was not going to bed, and meant to catch
him when he came out, and join him. In common politeness he could
scarcely refuse my company, since he had asked me as a favour to let
him come with me to Beni-Kouidar. I waited, watching the moon rise,
till my cigar was smoked out. Then I lit another. Still he did not come. I
heard the distant throb of tomtoms beyond the Bureau Arabe in the
quarter of the freed negroes. They were having a fantasia. I began to
think that I must have been mistaken, and that Marnier had really
turned in. So much the better. The ash dropped from the stump of my
second cigar, and the deserted camel market was flooded with silver
from the moon-rays. I knew there was only one door to the inn. Slowly
I lit a third cigar.
"A large cloud went over the face of the moon. A gust of wind struck
my face. Suddenly the night had changed. The moon looked forth again,
and was again obscured. A second gust struck me like a blow, and my
face was stung by a multitude of sand grains. I heard steps behind me
in the brick passage, turned swiftly, and saw the landlord.
"'I must shut the door, m'sieu,' he said. 'There's a bad sandstorm coming
up.'

"As he spoke the wind roared, and over the camel market a thick fog
seemed to fall abruptly. It was a sheet of sand from the surrounding
dunes. I threw away my cigar, stepped into the passage, and the
landlord banged the door, and drove home the heavy bolts.
"Then I went to Marnier's room, and knocked. I felt sure, but I thought
I would make sure before going to my room.
"No answer.
"I knocked again loudly.
"Again no answer.
"Then I turned the handle, and entered.
"The room was empty. I glanced round quickly. The small window was
open. All the windows of the inn were barred, but, as I learned later, a
bar in Marnier's had been broken, and was not yet replaced when we
arrived at Beni-Kouidar. In consequence of this it was possible to
squeeze through into