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 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.