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Show glowed a fire of brushwood. Now and then an Arab passed across the space of the doorway. One or two even looked in and solemnly spoke a greeting to the Spahi. But he seemed to hear nothing, to see no one. With his eyes fixed upon the ground he sipped his coffee and smoked cigarette after cigarette, taking the tobacco from a long silver box which lay beside him, and rolling it swiftly and deftly in the thin slips of paper of which he always carried a large supply. He was absorbed. His mind lay deep down in reverie. All trace of the fury which had convulsed him when he was with Achmed had died out of his face. He looked quite calm, almost sleepy. But his mind was fiercely alive. His passions were And all the time that he he was meditating ••• Bcnchaiilal was swiftly in without being what English sometimes call "deep." Where own dear interests were involved was acute and quite without scruple. And though, perhaps, he could ~ have been subtle for a long time, could not have been very patient in any - cleverness, he knew how to be both ingenious and secretive at a moment, as he had proved many times in his life. But he had the fault which spoils so much Arab diplomacy. When his passions were strong he was ' often carried away by them. His 1\11 temper often pulled down the edilil fice built up by his craft. And when ~M!fU ~~~:~En:: ::::~;z::o::: :: take he had made with Achmed. The guide would surely go and betray him to the Roumi, to the big, blond hunter of Barbary sheep, who ••• |