A Son of the Sahara Part 15

"I've brought you a little memento," he finished.

With inquisitive hands Pansy took the case and snapped it open. Inside was a string of pearls worth at least 500. He watched the girl as she opened the case, but none of the coos of delight and surprise at his generosity, that he expected and was accustomed to under such circ.u.mstances, were forthcoming. Instead, she closed the case and handed it back to him.

"It's very pretty, and very kind of you to think of it," she said.

"But I couldn't keep it."

To have his gift thrust back on him was the last thing Le Breton was prepared for or desired.

"Why not?" he asked abruptly.

"I never take presents from men, but I appreciate your kindness all the same."

He glanced at her, a peculiar look at the back of his eyes.

To get off the topic Pansy hurried forward.

From a building close at hand there came a gentle whinny.

"That's 'The Sultan,'" she remarked. "He hears me coming."

When the stables came into view, over the open door of a box a long brown head and neck were seen stretched towards the approaching girl.

"I'm going to let him out," she said; "but you mustn't come too close.

He hates strangers; and so should I if I'd been through the h.e.l.l he's been through."

Le Breton laughed, as if anyone, more especially the slim girl with him, telling him to be careful of anything in the shape of a horse had its intensely funny side.

As Pansy opened the door his glance ran swiftly over the animal.

It was a huge, gaunt beast, a chestnut, with wild, roving eyes; a great, vicious-looking creature, well on in years and undoubtedly an old race-horse, for speed was written all over it. And on it, too, were scars and weals that spoke of past ill-treatment.

Pansy kissed its soft nose, and patted and stroked it and pulled its ears; and the great animal fawned on her.

Then she led it out, keeping a tight grip on its mane. For it bared its teeth at Le Breton, and stood s.h.i.+vering and expectant, as if suspecting every man's hand to be against it.

He, however, ignored its attentions and came closer. But it swung round and lashed at him with iron heels.

"Oh, do be careful! Don't come so close," Pansy cried.

In spite of its snarls and the iron hoofs, she kept her grip on its mane. But neither teeth nor hoofs, were in her direction.

Ignoring her entreaties, Le Breton came closer, all the time talking to the horse gently in a strange language.

The animal seemed to recognize a friend. It quietened down suddenly, and stretched a long neck in his direction. Still talking, he patted and stroked it. The horse submitted to his attentions, and before many moments had pa.s.sed was rubbing its nose against him.

All interest, Pansy watched the two make friends.

"What are you saying to him?" she asked. "Usually he won't let a stranger near him."

"I was talking to him in the language all race-horses understand--Arabic," he replied. "But how did you come by such a brute?"

The animal was of the type only the most hardened of stable-men could handle; the very last horse for a girl to ride.

"I dropped across him quite by accident."

Le Breton thought of the scars he had seen on the girl's arm, and he had heard there were others and worse beyond his view.

"I should say it was 'by accident,'" he remarked drily. "I'd like to hear the story."

Pansy patted the big horse fondly.

"We met in a London slum," she said. "I happened to be pa.s.sing a stable yard when I heard a noise like a horse being hurt or frightened, and men laughing. So I opened the gate and went in. There was poor old Sultan tied up in one corner and half a dozen roughs baiting him, all the time taking good care not to get within his reach, for he was almost mad with terror and rage and ill-treatment. I told them what I thought, and in the telling I got too close to 'The Sultan,' and he grabbed me by the arm. In ten minutes he had made such a mess of me that it took a month to patch me up. And the men were such cowards that they never tried to rescue me. It was 'The Sultan' himself who seemed to realise he'd set on his best friend, for he stopped chewing me, and stood sniffing at me, and let me crawl away. And I didn't remember anything more until I found myself back home. Then I remembered the poor horse left to the mercy of those cruel wretches; and I sent someone along to buy him and take him away from his awful surroundings. It was so obvious he had known better days, although he had sunk right down to dragging some East End coal higgler's cart. The first time I was allowed out I went to his paddock and had a look at him. And I'm sure he knew me. He stretched his long neck over the gate and sniffed and snuffed at me and seemed quite conscience-stricken. At the end of a fortnight I was on his back, and now I take him everywhere I go, as he gets worried if he doesn't see me about. He can't believe his awful days are over unless I'm here to rea.s.sure him."

As Pansy told the tale she leant against the big horse; and she told it as if her own hurts were nothing.

"And you took him into your favour after he had treated you so abominably!" Le Breton said.

"I couldn't be hard on him for what was the result of his awful surroundings."

"You are very magnanimous."

Pansy smiled.

"You'll forgive me for not accepting that pretty necklace, won't you?"

she asked.

"Some day, when we know each other better, you'll honour me by accepting it," he said.

He spoke to the girl now as if she were his equal, not just some pretty toy he happened to have fancied.

"I never take anything from men--except perhaps a few flowers."

There was a subtle contempt for his s.e.x in her voice which Le Breton was quick to note.

"So you despise men?"

"Not that exactly, but I've had rather an overdose of them. Since I've been here, Sultan and I go off early every morning usually, and are miles away before there are any men about to bother us."

With this Pansy turned and led the horse back to its box.

"Now," she said, when this was done, "I mustn't keep you. Good-bye, and I'm glad you're none the worse for last night."

Again Le Breton was dismissed when he would have lingered. And on this second meeting she still had not troubled to ask his name.

There was a curious glint in his eyes as they rested on the slim, white, indifferent figure of the girl who was making her way back to the hotel without a further glance in his direction.