, to
tell that the dead had made pilgrimage to Mecca. All faces were turned
towards the sacred city, as Mussulmans turn when they kneel to pray, in
mosque or in desert; and the white slabs, narrow or broad, long or
short, ornamental or plain, flat or roofed with fantastic maraboutic
domes, were placed very close together. At one end of the cemetery, only
bits of pottery marked the graves; yet each bit was a little different
from the other, meaning as much to those who had placed them there as
names and epitaphs in European burial grounds. On the snowy headstones
and flat platforms, drops of rose-coloured wax from little candles, lay
like tears of blood shed by the mourners, and there was a scattered
spray of faded orange blossoms, brought by some loving hand from a
far-away garden in an oasis.

"Here lies my cousin, Cassim ben Halim," said the Caid, pointing to a
grave comparatively new, surmounted at the head with a carved turban.
Nearer to it than any other tomb was that of a woman, beautified with
the Prophet's slippers.

"Is it possible that his wife lies beside him?" Stephen made Nevill ask.

"It is a lady of his house. I can say no more. When his body was brought
here, hers was brought also, in a coffin, which is permitted to the
women of Islam, with the request that it should be placed near my
cousin's tomb. This was done; and it is all I can tell, because it is
all I know."

The Arab looked the Englishman straight in the eyes as he answered; and
Stephen felt that in this place, so simple, so peaceful, so near to
nature's heart, it would be difficult for a man to lie to another, even
though that man were a son of Islam, the other a "dog of a Christian."
For the first time he began to believe that Cassim ben Halim had in
truth died, and that Victoria Ray's sister was perhaps dead also. Her
death alone could satisfactorily explain her long silence. And against
the circumstantial evidence of this little grave, adorned with the
slippers of the Prophet, there was only a girl's impression--Victoria's
feeling that, if Saidee were dead, she "must have known."

The two friends stood for a while by the white graves, where the
sunshine lay like moonlight on snow; and then, because there was nothing
more for them to do in that place, they thanked the Caid, and made ready
to go their way. Again he politely refused their offer to drive him up
to his own gate, and bade them good-bye when they had got into the car.
He stoo