"Good job for us you didn't," returned Anstice rather grimly. "We'd got down to our last round—another five minutes and we'd have been wiped out."

"Whew!" The other man whistled. "Pretty close call, what? Lucky for you we did hustle, I see."

"Yes—but can you explain how it is you're here so soon? We hadn't dared to look for you till to-night or to-morrow morning."

"Oh, that's easily explained. We fell in with your messenger—Sir Richard Wayne, isn't it?—on our way back to Cairo. We were returning from a little punitive expedition"—he smiled pleasantly—"and were only too glad to set out on another jaunt. We get fed-up lounging about barracks, and these affairs come as quite a God-send in the wilderness."

"By the way, where is Sir Richard?" Anstice had been scanning the company, but could catch no glimpse of his friend. "His daughter, Mrs. Cheniston, is here, you know, and she will be anxious——"

"Ah, yes—I have a message for her. Is she here—can you take me to her?"

"She is here," said Anstice quietly, as Iris, hearing her name, approached. "Mrs. Cheniston, this gentleman has a message for you—from your father——"

"I'm Lane—Captain Lane, Mrs. Cheniston." He saluted her hastily. "And your father asked me to tell you he was quite well, only a little tired with his double journey. He wanted very much to return with us, but he really was not fit to turn back immediately; and knowing how a lame duck"—he coughed and looked suddenly embarrassed—"I mean—how one man may delay a squadron, so to speak, he very sensibly agreed to stay at our camp for a few hours' rest. We shall pick him up as we go back," he added, and Iris smiled rather wearily as she answered:

"Thank you very much, Captain Lane. You are sure my father is all right?"

"Certain—only a bit fagged, and no wonder, for he'd ridden hard. Ah—and he told me to say you were to ask Dr. Anston—Anstice, is it?—to help you in any matter in which you wanted a little help."

"I will certainly do that," said Iris quietly; and as the other men pressed round the little group, eagerly questioning the defenders of the besieged Fort, Iris slipped away from the excited crowd so unobtrusively that no eyes save those of Anstice witnessed her departure.

* * * * *

Three minutes later Anstice, leaving the rest planning the return journey over the desert, went quietly in search of Iris.

He found her, as he had half expected, standing by the window of the room in which Bruce Cheniston had died; and in her eyes was a forlorn look which showed him the measure of her desolation in this sunrise hour.

Quietly as he had entered she had heard him come, and turned to face him with a rather tremulous smile.

"Mrs. Cheniston, I came to look for you." He approached as he spoke; and in spite of herself she felt comforted by the mere fact of his presence. "You are not worrying because your father very wisely let those fellows come on ahead of him?"

"N-no," she said, with a queer little catch in her breath. "Only—I had so wanted—so hoped—to see my father—soon."

"I know," he said quietly, "and you will see him—very soon. We shall start this afternoon, when the horses are rested; and then it will not be many hours before you and your father meet again."

"Yes." She looked at him with something of appeal in her eyes. "Dr. Anstice, my father said you would help me ... you will, won't you? You know," said Iris simply, "you are the only person I can turn to—now."

More moved by her words than he cared to show, Anstice answered her, not impetuously, but with something in his manner which would have inspired confidence in any woman.

"Mrs. Cheniston, I will do all I can—and God knows I am grateful to Him for allowing me the chance of helping you—now. If you will trust yourself to me I will not relinquish my trust until I give you safely into your father's keeping. You will trust me?"

"Yes, Dr. Anstice." She held out her hands to him as she spoke in token of sincerity. "I would trust you—to the end of the world!"

* * * * *

And as he took her hands in his and vowed himself afresh to her service Anstice knew, with a great lightening of his spirit, that during the night march over the desert, that which he had almost dared to hope might happen, had indeed come to pass; that the chains with which his own action had shackled his soul had fallen from him for ever, and that full atonement for Hilda Ryder's death had been made at last.

* * * * *

FAMOUS NOVELS BY KATHLYN RHODES

THE LURE OF THE DESERT THE DESERT DREAMERS THE WILL OF ALLAH SWEET LIFE AFTERWARDS FLOWER OF GRASS THE MAKING OF A SOUL

In cloth, with attractive pictorial wrapper, 1/6 net.

Vivid descriptions of the entrancing scenery of the East, incident crowding upon incident, romantic situations, exciting intrigues, unexpected denouements hold and absorb the interest from start to finish.

KATHLYN RHODES is the assured success of 1918, as GERTRUDE PAGE was the success of 1916 and MABEL BARNES-GRUNDY of 1917.

Fired with enthusiasm to win fame as a novelist, Kathlyn Rhodes began her career before her school days were ended. "Sweet Life" followed shortly afterwards; and the appreciation which this won encouraged the authoress to follow quickly with other stories. Choice of subject she holds to be of primary importance. With the war depressing us all around, she believes that many readers prefer stories that permit them for the time to forget it; and this she achieves by her delightful flights of fancy through the realms of many lands.

These are the stories to send to your soldier friends to combat the horrors of warfare and the tedium of the hospitals; and the stories to read yourself to relieve the weary vigils we must keep at home.

THE END