"'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 Caid
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.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Desert Air, by Robert Hichens

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