CHAPTER XXXI--PAYING THE PRICE
"Kate!--where are you?" Muriel called, as she stood in the blazing sunin the midst of the silent camp.
Daniel had deposited her here, and was now hastening, in a last spurt ofenergy, towards the police headquarters, intent on gathering a force toreturn with him to El Hamran.
"Good Lord!--it's Muriel," came a voice from one of the tents, and KateBindane ran out into the sunlight, shading her eyes with her hand.
She slapped Muriel lustily on the back, and led her to an empty tent,where she put her arms about her and kissed her. "My word!--you'relooking tired!" she laughed. "Have you had a wonderful time?"
"Lovely," said Muriel, sitting down upon the camp bed.
"Where are your camels?--where's Daniel?" Kate asked, somewhatbewildered.
"Oh, we walked back," Muriel answered, with a casual gesture. "I'mfeeling quite tired." She began to laugh hysterically.
"D'you mean to say he made you walk?" her friend asked, incredulously.
"There wasn't much choice," she replied. "Oh, for heaven's sake, get mesomething to drink, something long--miles long, and cold. I'll tell youall about it presently."
Kate hurried away to find refreshments, and as she crossed the hot sandonce more, carrying an assortment of bottles, she encountered Danielcoming back with the local police officer. He pulled off his hat andshook hands with her, rapidly.
"How d'you do," he said. "Have you got a spare tent where I can have anhour's sleep?"
Kate stared at him. "You seem very pleased to see me," she laughed."You're bubbling over with news, aren't you?"
"So sorry," he replied. "Muriel will tell you: there's been a bit oftrouble at El Hamran. I'm going back there with the police presently.Can I doss down in here?" He pointed to the tent behind him; and, hardlywaiting for her reply, walked into it, telling the officer to arouse himin an hour's time.
Kate shrugged her shoulders, and went back to Muriel, whom she foundpulling off her boots and stockings.
"Muriel, what's happened?" she asked. "Daniel says he's going back to ElHamran with the police in an hour's time."
Muriel looked up, her face flushed. "Oh, the man's mad!" she declared."He's fagged out. He carried me half the way."
Rapidly she told her friend of the trouble in the Oasis and of theirescape, while Kate, uttering ejaculations of awe, plied her withrefreshment and helped her to pull off some of her clothes. Muriel wasfar too exhausted to give a very intelligible account of theiradventures; and while yet Kate was fussing around, dabbing her feet witheau de cologne, and rubbing her legs, she suddenly fell off to sleep.
Benifett Bindane listened, later, to his wife's version of the storywith marked interest.
"Well," he said, at length, "that settles our plans for us. We'll startback for Cairo tomorrow." He looked at his wife curiously. "I wonderwhat Lord Blair will say to it all," he mused.
"He must never know that Muriel wasn't with us," said Kate.
"That's impossible," he replied. "I shall have to tell him the truth."
"Benifett!" exclaimed his wife, staring at him in horror. "You're notgoing to give her away, are you?"
His mouth hung open for some moments. "I've been thinking it over," hesaid, at length, "and it seems to me that Lord Blair will have to betold. If it leaked out, and we were found to have lied to him, there'dbe no hope of doing business with him in the future."
"Business!" Kate snorted. "Oh, man alive, is business the only thing inlife?" She turned away in disgust.
"No," he answered, "it's not the only thing, but it happens to be myhobby, Kate, as you knew quite well when you married me. And I may aswell say now, that I am very hurt at the way you sneer at what is meatand drink to me. I hope you'll think that over."
He looked very nearly pathetic as he spoke; and his wife wassufficiently touched by his dejection to turn an angry scene into one ofaffectionate conciliation.
"P'r'aps you're right," she said; and presently they went out togetherto see what was happening to Daniel.
They found him just emerging from the tent where he had slept. It wasevident that he was still thoroughly tired; but a group of troopers andtheir camels outside the police buildings indicated that, nevertheless,an immediate start was to be made.
He was munching biscuits as he shook hands with Mr. Bindane. "I'm sorryI can't stay," he said. "I've got to set this business to rights atonce. But I dare say we'll meet in Cairo before you leave for England.Good-bye!" He held out his hand, but Kate checked him.
"I'll go and see if Muriel is awake," she said.
"No, never mind," Daniel answered, with his mouth full. "I won't disturbher. Please tell her I'm coming to Cairo within a month from now."
He waved his hand to them, and hurried away; and presently they saw himmount his camel and ride away southwards, followed by half a dozentroopers, their rifles slung across their shoulders.
"Well, I'm blowed!" muttered Kate.
"It seems to me it's business first with him, too," remarked Mr.Bindane, looking vacantly before him.
"Oh, rot!" replied his wife. "From what Muriel says it appears that hehad promised the old Sheikh that his son should hold office after him;and he's going to keep his word."
That night Muriel confessed the whole truth to her friend, only exactingthe promise that she would not tell of her humiliation to Benifett. Sherelated the events without emotion, her voice steady and the expressionof her face calm. It was as though she were telling the story of someother woman in whom she felt no personal interest. It was as thoughDaniel had now passed entirely out of her life.
"I'm going to marry the first man who proposes to me," she said, settingher jaw.
"Well, you'll have to look sharp about it," Kate replied. "He's comingto carry you off by the hair in a month's time, and don't you forgetit."
Muriel put out her hand quickly, and touched her friend's arm. "No, youdon't understand him," she said. "He's not a bit that sort of man...."
She checked herself, feeling that she had no desire to be inveigled intodiscussing his character.
Next morning, soon after breakfast, the start was made on the returnjourney to the Nile. Muriel, after a long sleep, was quite recoveredfrom her fatigue; but she did not feel happy, and the wide vistas of thedesert did not make the same appeal to her as on the outward journey.She felt herself to be very much older, very much more subdued; andthere was, as it were, a veil between her eyes and the beauty of thewilderness.
Moreover, she was very self-conscious. It seemed to her that she hadlost caste; and, now that all the alarums and excursions were over, shewas not a little dismayed at the affront she had put upon theconventions. Benifett Bindane's attitude to her was non-committal, butin his evasion of the subject of her adventures he displayed anawkwardness which she found almost insulting.
And then the natives.... She felt as though many pairs of eyes were uponher, and more than once it seemed to her that she was not being treatedwith the same deference as formerly.
Once, when her camel had lagged behind the others, she found herselfriding beside the Egyptian secretary of the expedition, a young man whoevidently regarded his personal appearance with favour; and it seemed toher that he turned his dark eyes upon her with a boldness which she hadnot previously observed.
But the most galling experience was provided by her dragoman, Mustafa,who took the opportunity to speak to her on the day of their departure,when she was sitting alone, waiting for the picnic luncheon to beserved.
"I hope my leddy was varry happy at El Hamran," he said, grinning at herboldly.
"Thank you, yes," she answered, fiddling with her shoe.
"Mistair Lane he varry nice gentleman," he went on; and then, leaningforward, he lowered his voice. "Mustafa know the beesness: he saynudding; he keep varry quiet, my leddy. No talk 'bout El Hamran...."
"What d'you mean?" she exclaimed angrily, but he only smiled at her, andsalaamed.
It was disgusting, and she felt a co
ld shiver creep down her spine, asshe hastened across to the others.
As she jogged along, day after day, towards Cairo her thoughts weregiven more and more to the subject of her coming return to her father.What was she going to say to him? It had all seemed so easy before: shehad thought that there would be no difficulty in concocting a plausiblestory. But now the idea of inventing a pack of lies revolted her; and asthey drew ever nearer to the Nile there grew steadily in her mind adetermination to tell him the truth.
Daniel, it seemed to her, had deliberately left her to extricateherself; and at the thought her heart was filled with renewed angeragainst him. Yet had she not told him that her plans were all laid toprevent gossip, to prevent her father's name being injured? He probablysupposed that there would be no scandal; and, after all, why shouldthere be? A little talk in the native quarter, perhaps, that would beall. But these lies she would have to tell her father! They hung overher like a menacing storm.
Yet if she told the truth, what then? Daniel's reputation would sufferas much as hers: she wondered whether he had realized this fact, when hehad obliged her to stay with him for the full fortnight.
Yes, she would tell the truth. It would be a ghastly ordeal, that hourwhen she would have to face her father; but it would be better thanlies, and shufflings, and the crooked ways of which she had seen so muchamongst the women she had known in her life.
Suddenly the realization came to her that her character was not such astheirs, that it took no delight in intrigue; and upon that disclosurethere followed a new understanding of Daniel's attitude to her when shehad told him of her arrangements for their secret fortnight.
"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, almost speaking aloud in the surprise ofher sudden shame. "What a sneaking little liar I must have seemed tohim!"
At last one day, in the blaze of noon, they descended from the desertand dismounted from their camels at the gates of Mena House Hotel. Now,towards the end of March, the days were growing hot, and Murielappreciated to the full the cool halls and shaded rooms of the hotel,and at luncheon the ice which tinkled in her glass seemed to be a verygift of the gods.
Amongst her letters, addressed to the care of Mr. Bindane, she found onefrom her father, written from the White Nile; and her heart leaped withsudden relief when she read in it that he had decided to extend his tourthrough the Sudan, and would not be back in Cairo for another threeweeks. He suggested to her that she should invite the Bindanes to stayat the Residency, so that Kate could be with her, thereby relieving LadySmith-Evered of the responsibility of upholding the conventions by herotherwise unnecessary presence; or else that she should remain at MenaHouse with them until his return.
She therefore put the two alternatives to her friends, and, though Katewas all for remaining where they were, her husband could not resist thearistocratic enticement of the Residency. Next day, therefore, they madetheir adieux to the desert and drove into Cairo. Muriel's relief at nothaving yet to face her father had raised her spirits; and for the firsttime for many days she appeared once more to be vivacious and consciousof the enjoyments of life.
All went well for a week or more. Muriel entertained her guests at theResidency with painstaking care; and every day had its list ofengagements. Indeed she was glad of the task, for, now that her life hadresumed its unadventurous course, she could not keep her mind fromthinking over the events of the last few months, although herrecollections brought her nothing but searchings of heart.
Towards Daniel she maintained an attitude of estrangement. Though hereyes had been opened to her own shortcomings, and she was no longer sosure of herself as to be able to censure him without qualification, yetshe wanted to assert herself, and to show him that she was mistress ofher own destiny; and, like a spectator of her own life, she almost hopedthat she would find herself belonging to some other man by the time thatDaniel returned, so that she would be able to say, "There now!--you'velost me, you see."
The bombshell fell unexpectedly. One morning Lady Smith-Evered came overto the Residency soon after breakfast, and asked Muriel if she might seeher alone. She had been dining with them only the night before, andMuriel did not, therefore, anticipate any serious trouble.
They went into the library together, and no sooner was the door shutthan the elder woman sat herself down in the desk chair, and cleared herthroat as though she were about to make a speech.
"Now Muriel," she began, "I want you to tell me the truth, please. Ihave acted more or less as your chaperone throughout the winter, and I'msure you can trust me to do what is right. I want you to give me adirect answer to a direct question: did you or did you not spend afortnight alone with Mr. Lane in the Oases?"
For a moment Muriel's head was in a whirl, and she felt the colourmounting to her cheeks, as she hesitated to face the sudden crisis.Then, fortifying herself to meet the situation with candour, she lookedat her questioner straight in the face.
"Tell me, first," she replied, "the story you have heard."
Lady Smith-Evered shrugged her shoulders. "I see no reason why I shouldnot. My maid told me late last night that she had heard it from ournative cook, who had heard it in the bazaars. The story was simply thatyou left the Bindanes and went to stay with that man. I thought the bestthing I could do, and the General agreed, was to come and ask youstraight."
"Thank you," Muriel replied. "Yes, it's perfectly true."
Lady Smith-Evered threw up her fat hands. "My dear girl!--what on earthmade you do such a foolhardy thing? You might have known the nativeswould talk. Of course I guessed you were in love with him, otherwise youwould never have been so rude to me as you were that day when I askedyou why he had left the Residency so suddenly. But I never dreamed thatthings had gone so far. Supposing you have a baby...?"
An expression of amazed indignation came into Muriel's eyes, and for afew moments she was absolutely dumb. It was as though she had had a lumpof mud flung straight at her face; and at first she experienced onlyburning resentment and blinding anger. Then, suddenly, she saw things asthey were: the thought had never come to her until now in all itscrudeness, its stark nakedness.
"How can you suggest such a thing?" she answered at last, lamely, herindignation strengthening her voice but not her wits.
"You must have been mad," said Lady Smith-Evered. "And at your age, too!It was more than naughtiness: it was downright folly. And as for theman, he deserves to be thrashed."
"But you don't understand," Muriel gasped. "There was no intimacy of anykind."
Her visitor moved impatiently on her chair. "Oh, don't tell me suchfibs," she exclaimed. "My dear Muriel, I am a woman of the world. I onlywant to help you."
Her words only served to accentuate the girl's alarm.
"But it's true," she cried. "I swear to you there was nothing of thatkind between us."
Lady Smith-Evered stared at her. "You can't expect me or anybody else tobelieve that. Why, the man is a notorious bad character in regard towomen."
"No, he's not," she answered. "He may be a brute in other ways, but allthis rot about his Bedouin harim is just the silly talk of Cairo. I'mnot going to beg you to believe me. I'm just telling you the truth; andif you don't think it's the truth you can go to ..."
She checked herself suddenly.
"But what are we to do?" said the elder woman, spreading out her hands."I'm not a prude; but the whole thing is shocking in a country likethis. How are we to prevent it ever coming to your father's ears?"
"I'm going to tell him as soon as he comes back," Muriel replied.
"Oh, you're incorrigible," exclaimed Lady Smith-Evered, angrily. "Youhav'n't got the sense even to know when to hold your tongue." She roseto her feet and paced up and down the room. "What's to be done? Will youplease tell me what's to be done?"
"Nothing much," Muriel answered. She was becoming calmer now. She sawherself in a new light, and her humiliation was extreme. LadySmith-Evered belonged to that world which Daniel had tried to teach herto despise; and in this woman's eyes she appear
ed merely as a foolish,naughty girl, whose rash actions had to be covered up by some sort oflie. She would have infinitely preferred it if she had been instantlyostracized and cut.
"Of course," Lady Smith-Evered went on, "I shall tell my maid that thewhole thing is nonsense; and it's just possible that the story will gono further. But you ought to be ashamed of yourself for taking suchrisks. And I have no words to express what I feel about Mr. Lane."
"Oh, please leave him out of it," Muriel exclaimed. "He never asked meto come, or knew I was coming."
Lady Smith-Evered sniffed. "He knows his own power over women," shesaid.
Muriel turned upon her fiercely. "I tell you he is in no way to blame."
Her visitor bowed. "I respect you for trying to defend him," sheanswered. "We women always defend the men we love."
"But I don't love him," she cried. "I hate the sight of him."
Lady Smith-Evered spread out her hands again, evidently baffled. "Thatmakes it all the worse," she said. "Romance is whitewash for thesepulchres of passion: it makes these things presentable; but if you saythe affair was not prompted by love, then I absolutely fail tounderstand you. It sounds unnatural, indecent."
She moved towards the door. "I'll do my best to hush it up," sheconcluded; "but the sooner you get married to some nice easy-goingEnglishman the better. These sort of things are more _comme il faut_after marriage, my dear."
And with that she left the room.