The House of the Falcon
No one molested Donovan. Apparently he was entitled to enter the mosque. Edith felt that he had missed her, and had come to seek her.
Then the lines of standing men began to move from side to side. One voice, then another, took up a refrain:
"Hai—hai! Allah, hai!"
They placed their lifted hands on the shoulders of their comrades and swayed their bodies in cadence.
They seemed to be moving toward her.
"Hai—hai! Allah, hai!"
It was a low chant that rose and echoed against the lofty dome. It grew into a rush of sound, in which the echoes were lost. Edith felt the beat of the passionate cry grip her senses.
Donovan did not halt He pushed through the moving men toward her position. The chant changed, as the men formed into long, sinuous lines that circled before the priest and the ray of sunlight.
"Yah hai yah Allah. Allah Akhar!"
At this the white man quickened his steps. He almost ran down the side of the nave, looking sharply into the shadows. Edith wanted to call to him, but did not dare. A few moments before she would have wished to keep her disguise a secret. Clothed as she was, how was Donovan to know her?
Yet she wanted him to recognize her. She felt the need of his protection, understanding how reckless she had been in coming. And when he halted to peer at her, she drew a deep breath.
For a long moment John Donovan was a man of stone, so keenly he scrutinized every detail of her clothing and figure. The girl trembled in the effort to keep from speaking. Then he stepped casually
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