oo young to understand. She never talked of
such things before me, but she kept to none of our customs, that I know.
In the three months I served her, never did she leave the house, not
even to visit the cemetery on a Friday, as perhaps the master would have
allowed her to do, if she had wished."

"Do you remember if she spoke of a sister?"

"She had a photograph of a little girl, whose picture looked like
herself. Once she told me it was her sister, but the next day the
photograph was gone from its place, and I never saw it again. Yamina
thought the master was jealous, because our lady looked at it a great
deal."

"Was there any other lady in that house," Nevill ventured, "or was yours
the master's only wife?"

"There was no other lady at that time," Mouni replied promptly.

"So far, so good," said Nevill. "Well, Legs, I don't think there's any
doubt we've got hold of the right end of the stick now. Mouni's
beautiful lady and Miss Ray's sister Saidee are certainly one and the
same. Ho for the white farmhouse on the hill!"

"Must we go back to Algiers, or can we get to Bou-Saada from here?"
Stephen asked.

Nevill laughed. "You are in a hurry! Oh, we can get there from here all
right. Would you like to start now?"

Stephen's face reddened. "Why not, if we've found out all we can from
this girl?" He tried to speak indifferently.

Nevill laughed again. "Very well. There's nothing left then, except to
say good-bye to the fair bride and her relations."

He had expected to get back to Algiers that night, slipping away from
the high passes of Grand Kabylia before dusk, and reaching home late, by
lamplight. But now the plan was changed. They were not to see Algiers
again until Stephen had made acquaintance with the desert. By setting
off at once, they might arrive at Bou-Saada some time in the dark hours;
and Nevill upset his old arrangements with good grace. Why should he
mind? he asked, when Stephen apologized shame-facedly for his
impatience. Bou-Saada was as good a place as any, except Tlemcen, and
this adventure would give him an excuse for a letter, even two letters,
to Josette Soubise. She would want to hear about Mouni's wedding, and
the stately Kabyle home which they had visited. Besides she would be
curious to know whether they found the white farmhouse on the hill, and
if so, what they learned there of the beautiful lady and her mysterious
fate. Oh yes, it would certainly mean two letters at least: one fr