Desert Air | Page 6

the arcade outside. This was what Marnier had
done. My precise, gentlemanly, reserved, and methodical acquaintance
had deliberately given me the slip by sneaking out of a window like a
schoolboy, and creeping round the edge of the inn to the fosse that lay
in the shadow of the sand dimes. As I realised this I realised his danger.
"I ran to my room, fetched my revolver, slipped it into my pocket, and
hurried to the front door. The landlord heard me trying to undo the
bolts, and came out protesting.
"'M'sieu cannot go out into the storm.'
"'I must.'
"'But m'sieu does not know what Beni-Kouidar is like when the sand is
blown on the wind. It is enfer. Besides, it is not safe. In the darkness
m'sieu may receive a mauvais coup.'
"'Make haste, please, and open the door. I am going to fetch my friend.'

"He pulled the bolts, grumbling and swearing, and I went out into enfer.
For he was right. A sandstorm at night in Beni-Kouidar is hell.
"Luckily, Safti joined me mysteriously from the deuce knows where,
and we staggered to the dancing-house somehow, and struggled in,
blinded, our faces scored, our clothes heavy with sand, our pockets, our
very boots, weighed down with it.
"The tomtoms were roaring, the pipe was yelling, blown by the frantic
demon with his hood full of latch keys, the impassible, bearded faces
were watching the painted women who, in their red garments and their
golden crowns, promenaded down the earthen floor, between the divans,
fluttering their dyed fingers, smiling grotesquely like idols, bending
forward their greasy foreheads to receive the tribute of their admirers.
"I ran my eyes swiftly over the mob. Marnier was not in it. I pushed my
way towards the doorway on the left which gave on to the court of the
dancers.
"Safti caught hold of my arm.
"'It is not safe to go in there on such a night, Sidi. There are no lamps.
It is black as a tomb. And no one can tell who may be there. Nomads,
perhaps, men of evil from the south. Many murders have been done in
the court on black nights, and no one can say who has done them. For
all the time men go in and out to the rooms of the dancers.'
"'Nevertheless, Safti, I must----'
"I stopped speaking, for at this moment Batouch, the brother of the
Caïd of Beni-Kouidar, came slowly in through the doorway from the
blackness of the sand-swept court. There was a strange smile on his
handsome face, and he was caressing his black beard gently with one
delicate hand. He saw me, smiled more till I caught the gleam of his
white teeth, passed on into the dancing-house, sat down on a divan, and
called for coffee. I could not take my eyes from him. Every movement
he made fascinated me. He drew from his pale blue robe a silver box,
opened it, lifted out a pinch of tobacco, and began carefully to roll a

cigarette. And all the time he smiled.
"A glacial cold crept over my body. As he lit his cigarette I caught hold
of Safti, and hurried through the doorway into the blackness of the
whirling sand."
*****
Here I stopped.
"Well?" said young England. "Well?"
The doctor did not speak.
"Well," I answered. "Algia danced that night. While she was dancing
we found a dead body in the court. It was Marnier's. A knife had been
thrust into him from behind!"
"Ah!" said the doctor.
"But--" exclaimed young England, "it was that fellow? It was
Batouch?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Nobody ever found out who did it."
"Well, but of course----"
He checked himself, and an expression of admiration dawned slowly
over his healthy, handsome face.
"I say," he said, "to be able to roll a cigarette directly afterwards! What
infernal cheek!"
"Desert air!" I replied. "My dear chap--desert air!"
The doctor nodded.

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