And so he came to Egypt and the desert, and told of the jackal-tracks which lead back from the Nile into the barren, mysterious hills, where a man may lose himself and die of thirst within a mile or two of hidden wells; where the mirage rises like a lake from the parched sand, and lures the thirsty traveller to his doom; and where the vultures circle in the blue heavens, waiting for the men and the camels who fall and lie still.
For a long time he sat talking thus, while the moon rose above the trees; but at length the chill of the air reminded him that he ought to be returning to the manor, and, picking up his guitar, he rose to his feet. Smiley-face, however, did not move. He was staring in front of him, his two hands thrust into the grass.
“Come along,” said Jim. “I must go back to the house now.”
The poacher looked up at him with a curious expression upon his face. “Reckon you baint agoin’ to tell I what your trouble is, sir,” he smiled.
Jim shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I can’t talk about it, somehow. But I’ll tell you this, Smiley-face: if I ever do talk to anybody about it all it’ll be to you.”
When he reached the manor, Jim found that he was late for dinner; and at the foot of the stairs he was confronted by Dolly, who was much annoyed at seeing him still in his day clothes.
“Oh, James!” she exclaimed, angrily. “Where _have_ you been? Dinner has already been kept back a quarter of an hour for you.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m quite impossible. Don’t wait for me: I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Don’t hurry,” she replied, icily. “Mr. Merrivall is going to dine with us. I shan’t be lonely.”
For three years, for three interminable years, Jim had borne the stagnation of his married life at Eversfield, the door of his heart shut against the whispering voices which bade him turn his back on his heritage and come out into the free world once more. But now matters had reached a psychological crisis. Something had happened to him; something had opened the door again. And as he sat in his room that night these voices seemed to assail him from all sides, enticing him to leave England, coaxing him, wheedling him, jeering at him for his lack of enterprise, and persuading him with the pictured delights of other lands.