The light within trickled through the cracks of the badly joined walls of the house, and in the illuminated doorway appeared the moving form of Aissa.

She also passed into the night outside and disappeared from view.

Babalatchi wondered where she had got to, and for the moment forgot the approach of Willems.

The voice of the white man speaking roughly above his head made him jump to his feet as if impelled upwards by a powerful spring.
"Where's Abdulla ?" Babalatchi waved his hand towards the hut and stood listening intently.
The voices within had ceased, then recommenced again.

He shot an oblique glance at Willems, whose indistinct form towered above the glow of dying embers.
"Make up this fire," said Willems, abruptly.