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Updated: June 6, 2025
Abdul's voice trembled as it broke the stillness. "It is very clear now, O my master." "Is it a mirage, or what, Abdul? What am I to see?" "No mirage, Effendi I wish it were one." "Then out with it!" Michael said impatiently. He had not the vaguest idea what Abdul was hinting at; his mind had no room for side issues. "What desert monster lies in waiting for us?
What would her emeralds and topazes and cornelians be worth? They would only mock her pox-pitted face! In Abdul's Moslem heart there was no pity. His eyes visualized and rejoiced in the sight of the treacherous woman's spoilt beauty.
Abdul had been afraid of exposing his master, in his uncertain state of health, to the full force of the desert sun. Michael had been very grateful, for during the last two days it had made him feel sick and his head had ached perpetually. "A touch of the sun," was Abdul's expressive description of his condition. He knew the symptoms only too well, and fortunately he also knew how to treat them.
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