"What do you know of Masouda, your niece?
Is she with you ?" "Nay," answered the Arab in a low voice, "but she bade me be in a certain garden of which you have heard, near Ascalon, at an appointed hour, to take her away, as she is leaving the camp of Salah-ed-din.

So thither I go.

Farewell." Then with a reverence to the veiled lady, he shook his reins and departed like an arrow by the road along which they had come.
Godwin gave a sigh of relief.

If Masouda had appointed to meet her uncle the Arab, at least she must be safe.

So it was no voice of hers which seemed to whisper his name in the darkness of the night when terror had ahold of him--terror, born perhaps of all that he had endured and the shadow of death through which he had so lately passed.