very corner of the
building. They were fat or thin, plain or passably good-looking; they
were all hideously poor, and in their heads they had the echo of the
gibes their menfolk had cast at them, when, returning with empty
pockets, they had boasted of great conquests.

Which boasting the sillies had believed, thinking, as all women think,
that their own particular male has been specially favoured of the gods
and is therefore an Adonis in the eyes of every other woman.

There was an indefinite air of trouble in that quarter of the bazaar
which increased with the heat of the day. Household matters were
neglected, whilst the women foregathered to talk; words were few, but
gestures were quick and expressive; the servants, wondering at the
absence of the Ethiopian, grumbled as they worked; they had been paid
no wages in their mistress's absence, and were on the verge of mutiny.

Brave words! When they knew that they would fall flat upon their faces
at the first swish of her satin robes.

They waited all the day, and no definite word came of the woman's
return. They waited until the stars twinkled and they still waited
with the terrible patience of the East. Why they waited they could not
have told you. They dared not set upon her if she passed in her
litter; she wielded too great a power through her beauty and wealth for
that; but as the hours passed, they moved softly to and fro, as moves
the wretched beast in his cage at feeding-time, whilst a look of
cunning allied to cruelty shone in the soft brown eyes.

It only required a spark to start the conflagration.

CHAPTER XXVI

"_And the dogs shall eat Jezebel . . . and
there shall be none to bury her_."

II KINGS.

The station was bathed blood-red in the after-glow of the wonderful
sunset, which, being a daily occurrence, is hardly ever noticed by the
winter visitors in Cairo; a star or two twinkled in the pale grey hem
of the coat of many colours which Day was offering to Night, as the
evening breeze lifted the edges of the veils and blew refreshingly
around a woman who descended awkwardly from a native cart and limped
her way across the station yard. The porter trundling Ben Kelham's
luggage caught her by the shoulder and likening her to the cross-eyed
offspring of a clumsy she-camel, flung her to one side. Rage incarnate
glared from her eyes, bitter vituperation flowed from behind the
yashmak, until, noticing that a swashbuckling me