Almost immediately the trotting mules
stopped, and the negress Hsina, hiding Victoria's hat in the folds of
her haick, turned the handle of the door.
Victoria looked out into azure dusk, and after the closeness of the
shuttered carriage, thankfully drew in a breath of salt-laden air. One
quick glance showed her a street near the sea, on a level not much above
the gleaming water. There were high walls, evidently very old, hiding
Arab mansions once important, and there were other ancient dwellings,
which had been partly transformed for business or military uses by the
French. The girl's hasty impression was of a melancholy neighbourhood
which had been rich and stately long ago in old pirate days, perhaps.
There was only time for a glance to right and left before a nailed door
opened in the flatness of a whitewashed wall which was the front of an
Arab house. No light shone out, but the opening of the door proved that
some one had been listening for the sound of carriage wheels.
"Descend, lady. I will follow with thy baggage," said Hsina.
The girl obeyed, but she was suddenly conscious of a qualm as she had to
turn from the blue twilight, to pass behind that half-open door into
darkness, and the mystery of unknown things.
Before she had time to put her foot to the ground the door was thrown
wide open, and two stout Negroes dressed exactly alike in flowing white
burnouses stepped out of the house to stand on either side the carriage
door.
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