“Oh, little one, if you knew!”

“I know,” she said.

I was weaker than a baby.  After the overstrain of the day had come a fit of utter nervous depression.  A lump rose in my throat, choking me.

“If you knew, if you only knew!...  Take me away, little one.  Get me away from here.”

“Not so loud,” she whispered.  “There is a white Targa on guard at the door.”

“Take me away; save me,” I repeated.

“That is what I came for,” she said simply.

I looked at her.  She no longer was wearing her beautiful red silk tunic.  A plain white haik was wrapped about her; and she had drawn one corner of it over her head.

“I want to go away, too,” she said in a smothered voice.

“For a long time, I have wanted to go away.  I want to see Gao, the village on the bank of the river, and the blue gum trees, and the green water.

“Ever since I came here, I have wanted to get away,” she repeated, “but I am too little to go alone into the great Sahara.  I never dared speak to the others who came here before you.  They all thought only of her....  But you, you wanted to kill her.”

I gave a low moan.

“You are suffering,” she said.  “They broke your arm.”

“Dislocated it anyhow.”

“Let me see.”

With infinite gentleness, she passed her smooth little hands over my shoulder.

“You tell me that there is a white Targa on guard before my door, Tanit-Zerga,” I said.  “Then how did you get in?”

“That way,” she said, pointing to the window.  A dark perpendicular line halved its blue opening.

Tanit-Zerga went to the window.  I saw her standing erect on the sill.  A knife shone in her hands.  She cut the rope at the top of the opening.  It slipped down to the stone with a dry sound.

She came back to me.

“How can we escape?” I asked.

“That way,” she repeated, and she pointed again at the window.

I leaned out.  My feverish gaze fell upon the shadowy depths, searching for those invisible rocks, the rocks upon which little Kaine had dashed himself.

“That way!” I exclaimed, shuddering.  “Why, it is two hundred feet from here to the ground.”

“The rope is two hundred and fifty,” she replied.  “It is a good strong rope which I stole in the oasis; they used it in felling trees.  It is quite new.”

“Climb down that way, Tanit-Zerga!  With my shoulder!”

“I will let you down,” she said firmly.  “Feel how strong my arms are.  Not that I shall rest your weight on them.  But see, on each side of the window is a marble column.  By twisting the rope around one of them, I can let you slip down and scarcely feel your weight.

“And look,” she continued, “I have made a big knot every ten feet.  I can stop the rope with them, every now and then, if I want to rest.”

“And you?” I asked.