His silence infuriated
her and she grew utterly reckless.
"Do you think that you can keep me here, you fool? That I can vanish
into the desert and no notice be taken of my disappearance--that no
inquiries will be made?"
"There will be no inquiries," he answered calmly.
She ground the heel of her boot into the soft carpet. "There
_will_ be inquiries," she choked furiously. "I am not such a
nonentity that nothing will be done when I am missed. The English
authorities will make the French Government find out who is
responsible, and you will have to pay for what you have done."
He laughed--the little amused laugh that sent the same cold feeling of
dread through her that she had felt the day before.
"The French Government has no jurisdiction over me. I am not subject to
it. I am an independent chief, my own master. I recognise no
government. My tribe obey me and only me."
Her shaking fingers found the handkerchief for which they were groping,
and she wiped the moisture that had gathered on the palms of her hands.
"When I am missed----" she began desperately, trying to keep a bold
front, but her assurance was leaving her.
"You will not be missed for so long that it will be too late," he
replied drily.
"Too late! What do you mean?" she gasped.
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