Her companions would not believe her, for they could see nothing, but there are moments when our mortal senses are more acute than those who have never put their whole heart and soul into them can ever realise.  Mrs. Belmont had already run down the rocky path, on the way to her camel, before they could distinguish that which had long before carried its glad message to her.  In the van of the approaching party, three white dots shimmered in the sun, and they could only come from the three European hats.  The riders were travelling swiftly, and by the time their comrades had started to meet them they could plainly see that it was indeed Belmont, Fardet, and Stephens, with the dragoman Mansoor, and the wounded Soudanese rifleman.  As they came together they saw that their escort consisted of Tippy Tilly and the other old Egyptian soldiers.  Belmont rushed onwards to meet his wife, but Fardet stopped to grasp the Colonel’s hand.

“Vive la France!  Vivent les Anglais!” he was yelling. “Tout va bien, n’est ce pas, Colonel?  Ah, canaille!  Vivent la croix et les Chretiens!” He was incoherent in his delight.

The Colonel, too, was as enthusiastic as his Anglo-Saxon standard would permit.  He could not gesticulate, but he laughed in the nervous crackling way which was his top-note of emotion.

“My dear boy, I am deuced glad to see you all again.  I gave you up for lost.  Never was as pleased at anything in my life!  How did you get away?”

“It was all your doing.”

“Mine?”

“Yes, my friend, and I have been quarrelling with you—­ungrateful wretch that I am!”

“But how did I save you?”

“It was you who arranged with this excellent Tippy Tilly and the others that they should have so much if they brought us alive into Egypt again.  They slipped away in the darkness and hid themselves in the grove.  Then, when we were left, they crept up with their rifles and shot the men who were about to murder us.  That cursed Moolah, I am sorry they shot him, for I believe that I could have persuaded him to be a Christian.  And now, with your permission, I will hurry on and embrace Miss Adams, for Belmont has his wife, and Stephens has Miss Sadie, so I think it is very evident that the sympathy of Miss Adams is reserved for me.”

A fortnight had passed away, and the special boat which had been placed at the disposal of the rescued tourists was already far north of Assiout.  Next morning they would find themselves at Baliani, where one takes the express for Cairo.  It was, therefore, their last evening together.  Mrs. Shlesinger and her child, who had escaped unhurt, had already been sent down from the frontier.  Miss Adams had been very ill after her privations, and this was the first time that she had been allowed to come upon deck after dinner.  She sat now in a lounge chair, thinner, sterner, and kindlier than ever, while Sadie stood beside her and tucked the rugs around her shoulders.  Mr. Stephens was carrying over the coffee and placing it on the wicker table beside them.  On the other side of the deck Belmont and his wife were seated together in silent sympathy and contentment.