derful
mountebank of the Soko passed, he stood in the tent door like a statue
of ebony, a rooted reality. And the snake was in his bosom; and the pipe
was at his lips; and the power was in his heart. And as he played,
Claire thought beneath the djelabe of Absalem, there came to him, with
the faltering steps of a thing irresistibly charmed, that third man
whose soul she had seen in London, like approaching like, with the
manner of a slave and the glance of the conquered. And her soul was
still within that charmed figure. She could not rescue it now from the
place where she had put it. And the statue at the tent door played the
irresistible melody until his wild and cringing double stole to his very
feet, and nearer and nearer, till they melted together, and where two
men had been, there was only one. He smiled with a subtle triumph, laid
down his pipe, stretched out his arms and vanished. But within him now
was the soul of Claire, borne wherever he should go, his captive, his
possession for all eternity.

Behind her, in the cloudy darkness, Claire heard a movement, and the
gliding of soft feet on grass. She did not turn her head, supposing that
one of the soldiers was keeping his guard. The movement ceased. But the
little noise had broken the thread on which her fancies were strung.
They were scattered like beads. She found herself feeling quite
ordinary, and listening with an urging attention for a renewal of the
trifling noise behind her. In the distance she could see Renfrew, now
crouching before the fire, which poured colour and a piercing vitality
upon him. She heard also, and for the first time, the sound of the
porters' music, which had been audible in the night all through her
reverie, though she was entirely unaware of the fact. She realised that
the soldiers were devouring the stew of mutton, and that she was in a
gay camp, full of human beings in a state of unusual satisfaction. One
of these human beings must be close to her. She turned her head. But she
was sitting in the darkness beyond the illumination of the fire, and
beyond her the night was like a black wall. Whatever had moved there was
invisible to her. She had not heard the gliding step go away, and she
felt that she was not alone. This feeling began to render her uneasy.
She got up, with the intention of returning to the firelight and to
Renfrew. Indeed she had taken a step or two in his direction, when she
was checked by an unreasonable desire to se