But an hour and a half dragged on, before there was any sign of
the absentee; then at last, Stephen's eye, roving wistfully from the
cards, saw a moving spark at about the right height above the ground to
be a cigarette.
A few yards away from the car, the spark vanished decorously, and Paul
was recognizable, in the light of the inside electric lamp, the only
illumination they allowed themselves, lest the stranded car prove
attractive to neighbouring nomads.
The French officer was at the hotel for the night; the Arab was dining
with him, but instead of resting, would go on with his horse and a Negro
servant who, it seemed, had been waiting for several days, since their
master had passed through Touggourt on the way to Algiers.
"Then he didn't come from El Aghouat," said Nevill. "Where is he going?
Did you find out that?"
"Not for certain. But an Arab servant who talks French, says he believes
they're bound for a place called Oued Tolga," Paul replied, delighted
with the confidence reposed in him, and with the whole adventure.
"That means three days in the dunes for us!" said Nevill. "Aunt
Charlotte, you can practice Patience, in Touggourt."
"I shall invent a new game, and call it Hope," returned Lady MacGregor.
"Or if it's a good one, I'll name it Victoria Ray, which is better than
Miss Millikens. It will just be done in time to teach that poor child
when you bring her back to me."
"Hope wouldn't be a bad name for the game we've all been playing, and
have got to go on playing," mumbled Nevill.
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