Aylmer made a gesture of assent. "As you will, so that the matter is done with speed. I stay at the Bristol. For the moment I visit the Villa Eulalia." "You can spare yourself the heat and the mounting of the hill, Sidi. They of the villa set forth on an expedition to the lighthouse this morning." Aylmer came to a halt, irresolute. "This is not mere talk; you know it?" The Moor looked at him with sombre eyes which, however, barely hid a twinkle. "The lady, the little lord, and their attendants went; this I saw myself. Absalaam ibn Said, their dragoman, is my cousin. I spoke with him." "The old man?" Daoud's shrug conveyed the fact that he was sufficiently conversant with the customs of Nazrani to have neglected the movements of one who could surely not claim the attentions which were notoriously the due of his daughter. "I did not concern myself to notice the old man, Sidi. If your business is with him, doubtless it is God's will that he awaits you." He waved towards the town with a determined and energetic sweep of the hand. "I go, to earn your dollars, Sidi. One hour may suffice me; perchance I must waste three or even four. But I shall find him, have no doubt of the matter. Have I your leave to depart?" As they passed together under the shadow of the Marsa gate, Aylmer nodded and the next moment passed alone into the crowd. A side alley had swallowed Daoud as if by magic. Aylmer joined the main stream of traffic which breasted up past the Mosque and the little Sôk towards the Gate of the Great Market, and so, past the hovels of the desert vagrants which cluster round the walls, to the Marshan and the European quarter outside the town. A little apart from the cluster of Legations stood the Villa Eulalia, encircled with its tiny park. This, in its turn, was bounded by a high wall of plaster or dried mud. The entrance led under an archway by a porter's lodge. A Moor in a spotless bournous appeared and made a grave gesture of obeisance as the visitor stood in the shadow of the porch. Aylmer presented his card. The man inspected it and pulled a cord. Some way off, inside the house, came the clang of a bell. Another man emerged, took the card which the porter handed him, and disappeared. All this time Aylmer still stood outside the gate. Perhaps a certain irritation showed on his face, for the porter made a gesture of deprecation. "If the Sidi would sit--?" He submitted courteously, indicating his own chair. "I do not know the Sidi," he added, with another tiny shrug, "or else--" His voice died away. He let it be inferred that circumstances, not his own desire, stood between the visitor and instant welcome. Aylmer smiled. "Strangers do not have the entrée?" he asked, as he seated himself. The man bowed a grave affirmative. "These are my orders, Sidi," he answered. "But if the Sidi comes again he will find that I have a good memory. I do not forget a face."