er and rode by her
side in silence.

To gain the oasis they passed near to the tents of the nomads, whose
fires were dying out. The guard dogs were barking furiously, and
straining at the cords which fastened them to the tent pegs, by the
short hedges of brushwood that sheltered the doors of filthy rags. The
Arabs were all within, no doubt huddled up on the ground asleep. One
tent was pitched alone, at a considerable distance from the others, and
under the first palms of the oasis. A fire smouldered before it, casting
a flickering gleam of light upon something dark which lay upon the
ground between it and the tent. Tied to the tent was a large white dog,
which was not barking, but which was howling as if in agony of fear.
Before Domini and Androvsky drew near to this tent the howling of the
dog reached them and startled them. There was in it a note that seemed
humanly expressive, as if it were a person trying to scream out words
but unable to from horror. Both of them instinctively pulled up their
horses, listened, then rode forward. When they reached the tent they saw
the dark thing lying by the fire.

"What is it?" Domini whispered.

"An Arab asleep, I suppose," Androvsky answered, staring at the
motionless object.

"But the dog----" She looked at the white shape leaping frantically
against the tent. "Are you sure?"

"It must be. Look, it is wrapped in rags and the head is covered."

"I don't know."

She stared at it. The howling of the dog grew louder, as if it were
straining every nerve to tell them something dreadful.

"Do you mind getting off and seeing what it is? I'll hold the horse."

He swung himself out of the saddle. She caught his rein and watched him
go forward to the thing that lay by the fire, bend down over it, touch
it, recoil from it, then--as if with a determined effort--kneel down
beside it on the ground and take the rags that covered it in his hands.
After a moment of contemplation of what they had hidden he dropped the
rags--or rather threw them from him with a violent gesture--got up and
came back to Domini, and looked at her without speaking. She bent down.

"I'll tell you," she said. "I'll tell you what it is. It's a dead
woman."

It seemed to her as if the dark thing lying by the fire was herself.

"Yes," he said. "It's a woman who has been strangled."

"Poor woman!" she said. "Poor--poor woman!"

And it seemed to her as if she said it of herself.

CHAPTER XV

Lying in