Swiftly and evenly the great camel bore him, its well-beloved
master, over the rippling sand towards the palms in the golden
west, but the approaching night travelled faster than they, and it
was quite dark, with a sullen heavy darkness, before they reached
the bungalow. It seemed very quiet, with an indefinable sense of
stillness in the garden and wide hall. Neither Saidie nor any
servant came to meet him, and it was quite dark: no lamp had been
lighted. With a sudden throb of terror in his heart, Hamilton
paused and called "Saidie."
There was no response, no sound. Striking a match, Hamilton
deliberately lit a lamp. Some great evil was upon him, and with a
curious calmness he went forward to meet it. He went upstairs and
pushed open the door of their bedroom, shielding the light with his
hand and seeking first with his eyes the bed. Saidie lay there: the
exquisite form, in its transparent purple gauze, lay composed upon
the bed, a little to one side. The glorious hair, unbound, rippled
in a dark river to the floor; the head rested sideways as in sleep,
upon the pillow. In silence Hamilton approached; near the bed his
foot slid suddenly; he looked down; there was a tiny lake of
scarlet blood, blackening at its edges, blood on the wooden
bedstead side, blood on the purple muslin over the perfect breasts.
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