Hadj's lips curled back from his pointed teeth and he looked dangerous.
"It is Batouch!" he snarled.
Domini got up. Without a word, turning her back upon the court, she made
her way out, still hearing the howl of the scorpion-eater, the roar of
the tomtoms, and the knocking on the door. Hadj followed her quickly,
protesting. At the door was the man with the pitted white face and the
thick lips. When he saw her he held out his hand. She gave him some
money, he opened the door, and she came out into the night by the triple
palm tree. Batouch stood there looking furious, with the bridles of
two horses across his arm. He began to speak in Arabic to Hadj, but
she stopped him with an imperious gesture, gave Hadj his fee, and in a
moment was in the saddle and cantering away into the dark. She heard the
gallop of Batouch's horse coming up behind her and turned her head.
"Batouch," she said, "you are the smartest"--she used the word
_chic_--"Arab here. Do you know what is the fashion in London when a
lady rides out with the attendant who guards her--the really smart thing
to do?"
She was playing on his vanity.
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