happy," though she ought
to have been able to say that. What was she, then, if not happy? "I'm so
excited," she finished.

Saidee stroked the girl's hand, softly. On hers she wore no ring, not
even a wedding ring, though Cassim had put one on her finger, European
fashion, when she was a bride. Victoria remembered it very well, among
the other rings he had given during the short engagement. Now all were
gone. But on the third finger of the left hand was the unmistakable mark
a ring leaves if worn for many years. The thought passed through
Victoria's mind that it could not be long since Saidee had ceased to
wear her wedding ring.

"I don't want to be cruel, or frighten you, my poor Babe," she said,
"but--you've walked into a trap in coming here, and I've got to try and
save you. Thank heaven my husband's away, but we've no time to lose.
Tell me quickly about Maieddine. I've heard a good deal of him, from
Cassim, in old days; but tell me all that concerns him and you. Don't
skip anything, or I can't judge."

Saidee's manner was feverishly emphatic, but she did not look at
Victoria. She watched her own hand moving back and forth, restlessly,
from the girl's finger-tips, up the slender, bare wrist, and down again.

Victoria told how she had seen Maieddine on the boat, coming to Algiers;
how he had appeared later at the hotel, and offered to help her,
hinting, rather than saying, that he had been a friend of Cassim's, and
knew where to find Cassim's wife. Then she went on to the story of the
journey through the desert, praising Maieddine, and hesitating only when
she came to the evening of his confession and threat. But Saidee
questioned her, and she answered.

"It came out all right, you see," she finished at last. "I knew it must,
even in those few minutes when I couldn't help feeling a little afraid,
because I seemed to be in his power. But of course I wasn't really.
God's power was over his, and he felt it. Things always _do_ come out
right, if you just _know_ they will."

Saidee shivered a little, though her hand on Victoria's was hot. "I wish
I could think like that," she half whispered. "If I could, I----"

"What, dearest?"

"I should be brave, that's all. I've lost my spirit--lost faith, too--as
I've lost everything else. I used to be quite a good sort of girl; but
what can you expect after ten years shut up in a Mussulman harem? It's
something in my favour that they never succeeded in 'converting' me, as
t