e. Go to see them, and I'll probably follow you."

As soon as they were gone Mrs. Shiffney put on a fur coat, summoned an
Arab called Amor, who had already spoken to her at the door of the
hotel, and said to him:

"You know the tall Englishman who is staying here?"

"The one who takes Aloui as guide?"

"Perhaps. I don't know. But he is fond of music; he--"

"It is Aloui's Englishman," interrupted Amor, calmly.

"Where does he go at night? He's a friend of mine. I should like to meet
him."

"He might be with Said Hitani."

"Where is that?"

"If madame does not mind a little walk--"

"Take me there. Is it far?"

"It is on the edge of the town, close to the wall. When Said Hitani
plays he likes to go there. He is growing old. He does not want to play
where everybody can hear. Madame has a family in England?"

Mrs. Shiffney satisfied Amor's curiosity as they walked through the
crowded streets till they came to the outskirts of the city. The stars
were out, but there was no moon. The road ran by the city wall. Far down
below, in the arms of the darkness, lay the gorge, from which rose
faintly the sound of water; lay the immense stretches of yellow-brown
and red-brown country darkened here and there with splashes of green;
the dim plantations, the cascades which fall to the valley of Sidi
Imcin; the long roads, like flung-out ribands, winding into the great
distances which suggest eternal things. From the darkness, as from the
mouth of a mighty cavern, rose a wind, not strong, very pure, very keen,
which seemed dashed with the spray of water. Now and then an Arab
passed muffled in burnous and hood, a fold of linen held to his mouth.
The noise of the city was hushed.

Presently Amor stood still.

"_Voila_ Said Hitani!"

Mrs. Shiffney heard in the distance a sound of music. Several
instruments combined to make it, but the voice of a flute was dominant
among them. Light, sweet, delicate, it came to her in the night like a
personality full of odd magic, full of small and subtle surprises,
intricate, gay, and sad.

"Said Hitani!" she said. "He's delicious! Take me to him, Amor."

She knew at once that he was the flute-player.

They walked on, and soon came to a patch of light on the empty road.
This was shed by the lamps of the cafe from which the music issued.
Under the two windows, which were protected by wire and by iron bars,
five Arabs were squatting, immersed in a sea of garments in which their
figure