An Evil Eye

49

Compston turned from the landing stage, casting about for the girl.

Unable to see her beneath the trees, he retraced his steps along the path, stooping to pick something off the ground. Such was popular reverence for the Koran that it was unusual to find scrap paper in the street-people tended to rescue it, in case it contained the Holy Word.

But here was a bundle of papers, riffling in the evening breeze. Compston grunted in surprise. It was too dark to see what was written on the paper, so he thrust the packet under his waistcoat and went on, thinking about the fair Armenian and wondering where the deuce she had got to.