CHAPTER XII


THE WOMAN OF ADVENTURE

A moment's utter silence followed. The woman, with another gesture,
drew off the aviator's cap she had worn; she pulled away the
tight-fitting toupee that had been drawn over her head and that had
masked her hair under its masculine disguise. With deft fingers she
shook out the masses of that hair--fine, dark masses that flowed down
over her shoulders in streams of silken glory.

"Now you see me as I am!" said she, her voice low and just a little
trembling, but wholly brave. "Now, perhaps, you understand!"

"I--but you--" stammered the Master, for the first time in all his
life completely at a loss, dazed, staggered.

"Now you understand why I couldn't--wouldn't--let Dr. Lombardo dress
my wound."

"By the power of Allah! What does all this mean?" The Master's voice
had grown hoarse, unsteady. "A woman--_here_--!"

"Yes, a woman! The woman your expedition needs and must have, if death
and sickness happen, as happen they will The woman you would never
have allowed to come--the woman who determined to come at all hazards,
even death itself. The woman who--"