After some time the calm of the party was broken by the arrival of a juggler, a most marvellous Hindoo, such a one as Azim Bey had often read of but had never seen, and the luxurious guests raised themselves and moved a little closer, so as to be able to see his tricks more easily. This left Cecil rather on the outskirts of the group, and before she could rise to go nearer a voice said in her ear--
With one glance at Azim Bey, deeply absorbed in the juggler’s tricks, under Lady Haigh’s guardianship, Cecil was up in a moment, scarcely needing the help of Charlie’s hand, and he hurried her round the nearest tent and into the wood. There were no footpaths, but they hastened, laughing guiltily, like two children playing truant, along the banks of earth left between the innumerable little canals by which each row of trees was irrigated, and finally came out on a grassy knoll set with pomegranate-trees, which were now gay with scarlet blossoms.
“Now we’re safe,” said Charlie. “We can take it easy. Do you see where you are? There are the ruins just in front.”
No one, as it happened, had observed Charlie’s sudden appearance and their flight. Even Lady Haigh, with heroic self-restraint, kept her eyes fixed on the juggler, lest she should by looking round attract attention to the pair, and the performance went on. When it was over, Lady Haigh invited Azim Bey to come and see a small plantation of English fruit-trees, belonging to several choice varieties, which Sir Dugald had lately imported. He complied with her request, but in the one glance around which he took before accompanying her, he had perceived and realised the fact that his governess had disappeared. His face showed, however, no trace of his having made this discovery. He escorted Lady Haigh from place to place, asked intelligent questions about the foreign trees, promised to recommend his father to try planting some, and kept his eyes open all the time for some trace of the truant. His manner was so natural, he seemed so deeply interested, that Lady Haigh was completely deceived; nay, more, the very thought of the need there was for watchfulness slipped from her mind, and when they returned to the rest of the guests, she entered into conversation with Denarien Bey, who was among them. Azim Bey saw and seized his opportunity. He removed his hand softly from Lady Haigh’s arm, and sheltered by her capacious person from the observation of Sir Dugald and Captain Rossiter, edged his way out just as Cecil and Charlie had done, until, when fairly hidden by the tent, he ran off at full speed in the direction of the clue he had discovered as he returned with his hostess from the plantation. It was a little strip of flimsy white stuff, which he had noticed clinging to the rough bark of a gnarled old apple-tree--only that, but he knew it to be a piece of the muslin veil Cecil was wearing, and it showed that she must have passed that way. Azim Bey followed the path she and Charlie had taken through the wood, and came out as they had done on the knoll where the pomegranate-trees grew; but here he was at a loss, for those whom he sought were not visible, and Cecil had not been so considerate as to leave another clue for his guidance. He spent some time fruitlessly in following paths that led nowhere, and in losing himself among the trees and the little canals, but at last he came upon an ascending track leading through a dense thicket of fruit-trees and shrubs. As he went on he heard the sound of voices, and he crept cautiously nearer, keeping in the shadow of the bushes, until he was able to see what filled him with rage and longings for vengeance, and made him swear the blackest oaths he could think of in any language.