ter Algiers. There was a kind of armed
truce between us in the country, though we lived only like two
acquaintances under the same roof. For months he had nobody else to talk
to, so he used to talk with me--quite freely sometimes, about a plan
some powerful Arabs, friends of his--Maieddine and his father among
others--were making for him. It sounded like a fairy story, and I used
to think he must be going mad. But he wasn't. It was all true about the
plot that was being worked. He knew I couldn't betray him, so it was a
relief to his mind, in his nervous excitement, to confide in me."

"Was it a plot against the French?"

"Indirectly. That was one reason it appealed to Cassim. He'd been proud
of his position in the army, and being turned out, or forced to go--much
the same thing--made him hate France and everything French. He'd have
given his life for revenge, I'm sure. Probably that's why his friends
were so anxious to put him in a place of power, for they were men whose
watchword was 'Islam for Islam.' Their hope was--and is--to turn France
out of North Africa. You wouldn't believe how many there are who hope
and band themselves together for that. These friends of Cassim's
persuaded and bribed a wretched cripple--who was next of kin to the last
marabout, and ought to have inherited--to let Cassim take his place.
Secretly, of course. It was a very elaborate plot--it had to be. Three
or four rich, important men were in it, and it would have meant ruin if
they'd been found out.

"Cassim would really have come next in succession if it hadn't been for
the hunchback, who lived in Morocco, just over the border. If he had any
conscience, I suppose that thought soothed it. He told me that the real
heir--the cripple--had epileptic fits, and couldn't live long, anyhow.
The way they worked their plan out was by Cassim's starting for a
pilgrimage to Mecca. I had to go away with him, because he was afraid to
leave me. I knew too much. And it was simpler to take me than to put me
out of the way."

"Saidee--he would never have murdered you?" Victoria whispered.

"He would if necessary--I'm sure of it. But it was safer not. Besides,
I'd often told him I wanted to die, so that was an incentive to keep me
alive. I didn't go to Mecca. I left the farm-house with Cassim, and he
took me to South Oran, where he is now. I had to stay in the care of a
marabouta, a terrible old woman, a bigot and a tyrant, a cousin of
Cassim's, on his moth