Anthony did not accuse the Armenian of anything worse than slyness and
cowardice, according to him the two worst vices of a man; but he
volunteered to find out what mysterious night-disturbance in the street
had caused the sudden closing of the doors. It was Biddy's thought that
the person Bedr wished to meet might fortunately have been prevented by
this very disturbance from keeping his appointment, and Monny saved a
serious ending to her adventure. It began to seem rather a worry,
travelling with so important a young woman as Miss Gilder: and a vague
dread of the future hung over me, as it hung over Brigit, who loved the
girl. We felt, dimly, as if we had had a "warning," and did not yet
know how to profit by it. The atmosphere was charged with electricity,
as before an earthquake; and we felt that the affair of the hasheesh
den might be but a preface to some chapter yet unwritten. Still, it was
impossible not to forgive Monny her indiscretion. Indeed, she became so
honey-sweet and childlike in her desire to "make up" for what we had
suffered, that the difficulty was not to like her better.

She besought us to forget the episode. If we only _knew_ how sick she
and Rachel had been, we'd see why they never wanted to think of those
hours again! And when I chanced to mention that to-night would be full
moon--the night of nights when the Sphinx and the Ghizeh Pyramids held
their court--Monny begged to have the bad taste of her naughtiness
taken out of her mouth by a dinner at Mena House. We might dine early,
and plunge into the desert later, when the moon was high. Of course, I
proposed that all should be my guests--all except "Antoun" who, though
recognized as a gentleman of Egypt, was considered by Miss Gilder an
alien, not exactly on "dining terms." He was supposed to go home, "to
his own address." At eight-thirty he was to take a taxi to Mena House,
where he would arrive before nine, in time to help me organize my
expedition.