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"The Golden Silence"

They both
remembered, and their eyes spoke, in a language they had never used
before.
In England, Margot Lorenzi was wondering why Stephen Knight had not come
to meet her, and angrily making up her mind that she would find out the
reason.


L

Somehow, they all contrived to take a little food, three watching from
the wall-towers while the others ate; and Saidee prepared strong,
delicious coffee, such as had never been tasted in the bordj of Toudja.
When they had dined after a fashion, each making a five-minute meal,
there was still time to arrange the defence, for the attacking party--if
such it were--could not reach the bordj in less than an hour, marching
as fast as horses and camels could travel among the dunes.
The landlord was drunk. There was no disguising that, but though he was
past planning, he was not past fighting. He had a French army rifle and
bayonet. Each of the five men had a revolver, and there was another in
the bordj, belonging to the absent brother. This Saidee asked for, and
it was given her. There were plenty of cartridges for each weapon,
enough at all events to last out a hot fight of several hours. After
that--but it was best not to send thoughts too far ahead.
The Frenchman had served long ago in the Chasseurs d'Afrique, and had
risen, he said, to the rank of sergeant; but the fumes of absinthe
clouded his brain, and he could only swagger and boast of old exploits
as a soldier, crying from time to time "Vive l'entente cordiale," and
assuring the Englishmen that they could trust him to the death.


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