byThe three of them were unusually silent that night over their after-dinner coffee. They were camping outside the little town of Sollum on the Libyan coast of North Africa. For three weeks they had been delayed here en route for the Siwa oasis. Two men and a girl.
en route“So we really start tomorrow.” Merle Anthony blew a cloud of smoke toward the glittering night sky. “I’m almost sorry. Sollum’s been fun. And I’ve done two of the best pictures I ever made here.”
“Was that why you burned them up yesterday?” her cousin, Dale Fleming, inquired in his comfortable pleasant voice.
The girl’s clear pallor slowly crimsoned. “Dale! What a—”
“It’s all right, Merle,” Gunnar Sven interrupted her. “Dale’s quite right. Why pretend this delay has done you any good? And it’s altogether my fault. I
