grain by grain and speck by speck. Tips of the smothered thing emerged.
Presently a subsidence would follow with a rush and light would blaze
upon its skeleton. He felt it stirring underneath his feet--this flowing
movement of light, dry, heaped-up sand. It was always--sand.

Then other incidents of a similar kind came about, clearing the way to a
natural acquaintanceship. Henriot watched the process with amusement,
yet with another feeling too that was only a little less than anxiety. A
keen observer, no detail escaped him; he saw the forces of their lives
draw closer. It made him think of the devices of young people who desire
to know one another, yet cannot get a proper introduction. Fate
condescended to such little tricks. They wanted a third person, he began
to feel. A third was necessary to some plan they had on hand, and--they
waited to see if he could fill the place. This woman, with whom he had
yet exchanged no single word, seemed so familiar to him, well known for
years. They weighed and watched him, wondering if he would do.

None of the devices were too obviously used, but at length Henriot
picked up so many forgotten articles, and heard so many significant
phrases, casually let fall, that he began to feel like the villain in a
machine-made play, where the hero for ever drops clues his enemy is
intended to discover.

Introduction followed inevitably. "My aunt can tell you; she knows
Arabic perfectly." He had been discussing the meaning of some local name
or other with a neighbour after dinner, and Vance had joined them. The
neighbour moved away; these two were left standing alone, and he
accepted a cigarette from the other's case. There was a rustle of skirts
behind them. "Here she comes," said Vance; "you will let me introduce
you." He did not ask for Henriot's name; he had already taken the