But Royson had found adversity a hard task-master. He had learnt early the lesson that a man who takes a leap in the dark should at least jump from firm ground, and when he asked himself what was the definite charge he would prefer against von Kerber his logic was brought to an abrupt halt. In plain English, he depended on a few words in the solicitor's letter, and these, in their turn, were probably inspired by the one-sided statements of the Austrian's avowed enemy, Alfieri. This consideration brought him back to the starting-point in his review of a puzzling situation. Fielding, whoever he might be, had done the right thing in placing his case before Mr. Fenshawe by letter. It would serve to clear the ground, and give scope for the interference of one who really had no cause of complaint against von Kerber.

"Anyhow," reflected Royson, smiling at the queer manner in which many opposing interests helped to entangle him in a mesh of difficulties, "I need not rush my fences. Let Fenshawe read his letter, and, above all else, let me seek counsel from his granddaughter. Then, by happy chance, I may hit on the right line." When a young man does not want to deprive himself of the company of a nice young woman, he may be depended on to argue himself into a state of mind which does not demand such a sacrifice.

At that instant Irene rose and told Captain Stump that she agreed with him—a scrutiny of the chattering mob in the street was more to her taste than a description of the frocks worn at the last court ball. Dick pocketed his letters, and would have joined them had he not noticed that Mrs. Haxton was bending forward in her chair and examining the mixed pile of correspondence on the table. There was no grave significance in the action, because a number of magazines and newspapers were mixed with the heap, and these were more or less common property. But Royson, knowing of the existence of one document of exceeding importance, acted on the principle that if opportunity makes the thief Mrs. Haxton's reputation should remain unsullied that day if it lay in his power. He lit a cigar, wheeled his chair slightly, and sat facing her, at a distance of ten or twelve feet. The open railing of the veranda was half as far away on his right and on Mrs. Haxton's left. Through the narrow rails they both could see the opposite pavement, with its dun-colored throng of natives and the gloomy interiors of several small shops, while the white walls and close- latticed windows of the upper stories seemed to be bleaching visibly in the slanting rays of a fierce afternoon sun.

Mrs. Haxton, apparently giving no heed to Royson, glanced listlessly at the wrappers and postmark. The task seemed to prove uninteresting. Soon she selected a periodical, and was about to open It when a remark from Irene caught her ear.

"That Italian standing in front of the grain-dealer's place seems to be rooted to the ground with astonishment at seeing strangers in the hotel," said the girl, turning her smiling face towards her companion.

"Them Dagos is impident pups at times, miss," replied Stump, his red eyes no doubt meeting the man's stare with a fixity that might have disconcerted most gapers.

"Does he know you, do you think? I happened to see him coming along the street, and as soon as he saw us he stood stock-still. He has been gazing up here now for the past two or three minutes."

"I've booted a rare lot of I-talians in my time," said Stump. "I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he was some loafer I'd helped across a ship's gangway at Genoa or Naples."

"But, captain," laughed Irene, "that man appears to be a superior class."

"Bless yer heart, miss, that's nothin'. By the cut of his jib I'd rate him as a fiddler, an' I remember once, at Brindisi, I was pointed out two counts an' a markee among the coal-heavers."

Naturally enough, Mrs. Haxton and Dick looked for the person whose singular behavior was under discussion. Though they had no difficulty in finding him, it was impossible that they themselves could be seen with any degree of clearness. The railing and the deep shade of the veranda shielded them effectually. The Italian, a man of middle height, with a finely-molded face and soldierly aspect, a man whose bearing went far to prove that Stump's general estimate of a great nation was apt to be wrong, was certainly very much taken up with the appearance of the two figures leaning over the balcony. But Royson had scarce time to note his main characteristics when he heard Mrs. Haxton utter a queer gasping sob. It seemed to him that she had only just succeeded in smothering a scream. Her cheeks suddenly became ashen gray, and her tightly compressed lips were bloodless. All her beauty fled, as the tints of a rose die under certain varieties of chemical light. Her eyes dilated in an alarming way, and lines not visible previously now puckered the corners of her mouth.

Owing to the Babel of tongues in the street, neither Irene nor Captain Stump knew how terribly the mere sight of the staring Italian had affected Mrs. Haxton. It came to Royson with a flash of inspiration that this man must be Alfieri, that the woman had recognized him, and that she feared him with a mortal dread.

He sprang upright and went to her.

"What is it?" he asked, neither raising nor lowering his voice sufficiently to attract attention. "Are you ill? Shall I call Miss Fenshawe?"

She lifted an appealing hand, and tremblingly essayed to drop her veil. Her languid insolence had vanished with her good looks. For the moment, she was a broken and despairing woman.

"No, no," she murmured, and the anguish in her voice would have aroused sympathy in a nature far less impressionable than Royson's. "If you could help me, and all of us, try and find Baron von Kerber, and tell him—tell him—I sent you with the message that there is one here whom he must not meet. Oh, what shall I say to make him understand?"

"May I tell him that Alfieri is in Massowah?"

Dick almost regretted the words when he witnessed their tremendous effect. She was on the very brink of hysteria, and the suddenness of her collapse was painful.

"You—you, too, know Alfieri?" she gasped, looking at him in a very agony of terror.

"I am sorry if I have added to your alarm. I did not mean to do that, Alfieri is unknown to me, but I heard his name at Marseilles, when he attacked the Baron."

The pity he could not withhold seemed to give her new strength.

"An attack!" She whispered. "At Marseilles! Oh, why was I not told? But you will find him, at the Governor's house! It is not far—on the seaward point.... The hotel people will supply a guide.... Baron von Kerber and Alfieri must not meet here. If they do meet, we shall lose everything.... Tell the Baron to go on board the yacht, no matter what Mr. Fenshawe says. Do you understand? It is a matter of life and death. Slip out into a back street, so that Alfieri may not see you.... I will watch from here. Go, for Heaven's sake. Let nothing delay you."

She was incapable of further explanation. Dick feared she would faint if he waited another second.

Hence, when Irene turned to say that Mr. Fenshawe and the Baron appeared to be paying a prolonged visit to the Governor, she found that Mrs. Haxton was sitting alone, with her veiled face propped on her hands, while, so malicious was fate's decree once more to Royson, that he was then hastening through malodorous lanes and crowded slums in order to save from threatened peril the very man whose downfall offered the only visible means by which he could bend his own frail fortunes in the direction that looked best to him.



CHAPTER VIII

MASSOWAH ASSERTS ITSELF

Royson knew not one word of Arabic. His Italian was of a rudimentary type, based on some acquaintance with Latin, eked out by a few phrases gleaned from books of travel. The polite hotel manager's French was only a shade more fluent. Consequently, the latter told Mulai Hamed, deputy assistant hall-porter, that the Effendi wished to be conducted to Government House with the utmost secrecy, thus twisting Dick's simple request, that the guide should avoid the main streets into a mysterious demand which an Eastern mind could not fail to embroider with intrigue.

For Mulai Hamed was a negroid Arab, whose ruffianly aspect was rather enhanced by the swaggering way he carried a broad shoulder-belt and brass badge of office. He interpreted his orders literally, being eager to display a certain skill in conducting to an artistic finish any enterprise that savored of guile. As soon as the two quitted the hotel, Royson saw that he was traversing by-paths seldom visited by Europeans. He passed through evil-smelling alleys so shut in by lofty houses that the sun hardly ever penetrated their depths. He caught glimpses of dun interiors when forced aside by a panier-laden mule or lumbering camel, and the knowledge was thrust upon him in many ways that his presence in this minor artery of the bazaar was resented by its inhabitants.

The few females he met were swathed from head to foot in cotton garments that had once been white. Dark eyes glanced curiously at him over the yashmak, or veil, which covered nose, cheeks, and mouth from the gaze of strangers. Orange-tinted nails and fingertips, visible occasionally when the loose fold of a robe was snatched from the contamination of touching him, suggested the talons of a bird of prey rather than the slender well-shaped hand for which the Arab woman is noteworthy. Every man, almost without exception, scowled at him. Naked children, playing in the gutter, ran off, half frightened, yet stopped to shriek words which he was quite sure were not kindly greetings. Prowling dogs, the scavengers of the native quarter, shared the general hostility, and scurried out of his path, but sullenly, and with bared teeth. Through occasional sunlit vistas he peeped into main streets in which loitered numbers of Italian soldiers and civilians. Even a few carriages appeared, conveying ladies to the shops or public gardens, now that the intense heat of the sun had subsided. Therefore he found it scarcely credible that in the fetid slums there should be such covert hatred of the white race which held undisputed sway in thoroughfares distant not a stone's throw. And, in puzzling contrast to the evidences of eye and ear, he was conscious of an uncanny sense of familiarity with his surroundings. Before the Aphrodite brought him south by east he had never been nearer Egypt than Paris. Yet the sights, the sounds, the nauseating smell of this dank bazaar appealed to him with the breathless realism that the jingle of hansoms, the steady crunch of omnibuses, the yelling of newsboys and the tar-laden scent of the wood-paved road might convey when next he entered the Strand.

This entirely novel and disquieting conceit recalled his strange obsession when, first he looked out over the desert at night from the bows of the yacht, and the memory brought with it the legend of his house—that the Roysons were descendants of Coeur-de-Lion. He saw now that which he had never realized from the glowing pages of written romance, that the Crusaders must have mixed with people nearly identical in manner and speech with the strange human miscellany of Massowah. During those medieval campaigns in an arid and poverty- stricken land, feudal pomp and regal glitter would yield perforce to the demands of existence. Richard of England and Philip of France, with many another noble warrior of high repute, had doubtless been glad enough, times without number, to seek the shelter and meager fare of just such a jumble of darkened tenements as that through which his guide was leading him.

But why should he, Richard Royson, acknowledge an occult acquaintance with this unknown scene? And what was the fascination which the squalid life of the bazaar had exercised occasionally on men of exalted rank at different periods of the world's history? The mere notion that he might succumb to it—that he should even feel its glamour by the operation of some subtle trait of heredity—was so grotesque that he laughed aloud.

He happened to be crossing a tiny square at the moment, and a bearded moullah was entering a mosque which filled one whole side of it. The unbeliever's mirth doubtless disturbed a pious meditation, and the moullah turned and muttered something. The words might be a verse of the Koran, but they had the ring of a malediction.

Mulai Hamed was abashed and angry. He spoke apologetically to the holy man, alluded to the "giaour" more than once, and proceeded to give Dick a voluble lecture, enlightening him, most probably, as to the exceeding importance of politeness where a Mahomedan priest was concerned.

Royson was unable to explain that his hilarity was not intended as a slight on the follower of the Prophet. Yet dignity demanded he should not remain dumb, so he pointed ahead, and vociferated, with a fairly accurate assumption of his skipper's voice and manner:

"Lead on, you swab, and keep silent, or I'll alter the shape of your face."

It sufficed, nor was he wholly mistaken in his rough-and-ready philosophy, for it is thus that the West dominates the East. The incident had the further effect of arousing Royson to actualities. He dismissed his day-dream, and bent his wits to consideration of the queer message which Mrs. Haxton had asked him to deliver. Would the Austrian obey her, he wondered? A man's point of view and a woman's differ materially when the graver crises of life have to be faced. If it were merely a question of physical courage, Dick imagined that the Baron would refuse to play the coward's part by skulking on board the yacht. In that event, von Kerber and Alfieri could hardly fail to meet within the hour, for Massowah was a small place. Nor was it altogether probable that bloodshed would be the outcome. The affray at Marseilles had given the Italian an excellent opportunity for settling old scores in that fashion if he were so minded. At any rate, the position was rife with dramatic possibilities, and each that presented itself to Dick's judgment seemed to favor his own projects, which now demanded a speedy return to England. Yet he hoped to arrange his departure in such wise that Irene Fenshawe might not have it in her heart that he had deserted her.

Dick did not admit, even to himself, that he had any well-defined motive, other than the fulfilment of a promise, for wishing to stand well in the girl's esteem.

"I may be a potential baronet," he communed, "but I am not such a fool as to fall in love with the heiress of a man like Fenshawe. A baronet, indeed! Hardly a month ago I was tramping the streets of London looking for work. One does not, under those conditions, include in the list of prospective occupations marriage with a young lady worth a million or two."

It was surprising how bitter this very sensible reflection could be. It disturbed his placid temper. He felt like railing at fate for ill- usage. Fortunately, Mulai Hamed had no further cause to chide the Effendi on account of his seeming irreverence, or Dick's copying of Stump's methods might not have been confined to speech.

But it was a remarkable fact, worthy of high relief in the fresco of weird and startling events then vaguely grouping themselves, that Royson first dreamed of love, even as a fantastic idyll where Irene Fenshawe was concerned, while he was hurrying through the native quarter of Massowah on a mission destined to change the whole course of his life.

For the hour was at hand when he would be tried by tests that few men might endure. Treading close on the heels of his guide, he emerged from a cramped arch into a spacious parade-ground. A regiment of bersaglieri was assembling for drill during the comparatively cool interval before sunset, and, on the seaward side of the plain, a squat fort pointed its guns at town and harbor.

Mulai Hamed hastened towards the nearest gate. He did not enter, but his gestures showed that the Governor's residence stood inside the fortifications. Royson went on alone, and was stopped by a sentry, who called a corporal; the latter conducted him to a lieutenant, and thenceforth Dick's progress was simplified, because the officer not only spoke English but was ready to display his erudition, though, not exactly in the manner desired by his questioner.

When Royson said he wanted to communicate with two gentlemen who had called on the Governor some two hours earlier, the Italian smiled darkly.

"They landed from the English yacht out there?" he asked, with a hand- flourish that indicated the Red Sea generally and the Aphrodite in particular.

"Yes."

"And you are one of the ship's officers?"

"Yes," said Dick again.

"Well, I have no orders. I advise you to go on board, and await his Excellency's decision."

"It will be most gratifying to learn his Excellency's decision," said Royson, "but just at this moment I must ascertain the whereabouts of Mr. Fenshawe and Baron von Kerber."

The lieutenant spread both hands deprecatingly.

"What is one to say?" he shrugged, arching his eyebrows and pursing his lips, "I repeat, I have no orders."

"But you have seen them?"

"Oh, yes. They are here."

"Then will you oblige me by sending in my name to Baron von Kerber, and saying—"

"It is impossible. Go to your ship. I speak as a friend."

"I am sure you wish to help me," persisted Dick, "but I am carrying a message of some importance—" "Ah, from whom?"

"From a lady."

"Who is she?"

"One of the ladies of our party."

"Ahi, crudo Amor! You have ladies on board, then?"

"Yes, Mr. Fenshawe's granddaughter, and—a friend of hers."

Something in the Italian's manner warned Royson that he was treading on unsafe ground. It occurred to him that if Mrs. Haxton had good reason for her display of fear at the sight of Alfieri it was advisable not to spread the tidings of her presence in Massowah by revealing it to an inquisitive official. And the warning given in one of the letters in his pocket suddenly assumed a sinister significance. He strove against any outward exhibition of concern, and the lieutenant was manifestly anxious to help him.

"I am sorry," was the unsatisfying statement. "I can do nothing without his Excellency's instructions, and he has gone out for a drive."

"Gone out for a drive!" repeated Royson, quite taken aback by this rather bewildering explanation. "Am I to understand that my friends are kept here—"

"You are to understand nothing but what I have told you, and you will remember that I have contented myself with advising you to return to your yacht."

It was evident that no good end could be achieved by striving to saddle the courteous officer with any responsibility for his admissions. Dick took the cue thus offered, and tried another line.

"Will you kindly tell me at what hour the Governor returns?" he asked.

"Certainly. He will be here in twenty minutes."

"May I wait until he arrives?"

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure."

The lieutenant clapped his hands, and an orderly appeared.

"Some wine, ice, and cigarettes," he commanded. He engaged Dick instantly in conversation as to the prospects of war in South Africa, and was obviously desirous not to discuss personal matters. He was a decent fellow, and an enthusiastic admirer of the British soldier, of whom he had seen a good deal during a visit to Aden, so the talk did not flag till the clatter of hoofs through the vaulted gateway announced the advent of a carriage.

The Governor, a fat, unhealthy-looking man, whose seamed brow and puffy eyelids suggested that negotiations with King Menelek did not constitute the highest form of diplomatic happiness, was pleased to be explicit when Dick was introduced to him, and he found that the Englishman spoke French.

"After consultation with the Government advocate," he said, "I have decided to release Mr. Fenshawe, whose arrest was due to his persistent defense of Baron Franz von Kerber's undertaking. The latter must remain in custody, and I warn you, and intend to give the same warning to all persons on board your vessel, that a gunboat is patrolling the coast with the most positive instructions to sink the Aphrodite if any attempt be made to land on Italian territory, elsewhere than at a recognized port."

His Excellency had cultivated the habit of plain speaking, which is an essential part of all dealings with Abyssinians. Royson did not attempt to answer him. He asked if Mr. Fenshawe would be set at liberty forthwith, and was assured that the Governor's own carriage would convey both Mr. Fenshawe and himself to the hotel within a few minutes. The big little man then vanished, and Dick soon had the satisfaction of seeing Irene's grandfather escorted to the inner courtyard by a file of soldiers.

It was a singular meeting between the two. Though the yacht-owner was white with anger, he was manifestly pleased at finding Royson there.

"Ah," he said, extending his hand, "I am glad to see you. Does Miss Fenshawe know of this outrage?"

"No, sir. I think not. Indeed, I am almost positive she has not heard of it."

"Then why are you here?"

"Mrs. Haxton sent me with a message to Baron von Kerber."

"Mrs. Haxton probably guessed what would happen. Some scoundrel named Alfieri, who has tried more than once to steal my poor friend's secret, has gained the ear of the Italian foreign minister. Trumped-up allegations have led to cabled orders for von Kerber's arrest, and these wretched organ-grinders in uniform would have lodged every one of us in prison if they dared. Unhappily, the Baron is an Austrian subject, and there will be considerable delay before I can secure his freedom. We must make for Aden at once. I will not trust the cable from Massowah. By Jove, I have been a supporter of peace all my life, Mr. Royson, but it is a lucky thing for this thieves' den that I have not an armed ship now at my disposal, or I would blow their fort out of its foundations."

The older man little knew how this outburst affected Royson. The reference to Alfieri was absolutely staggering. No up-to-date battleship could have demolished the Massowah fortress so effectually as Mr. Fenshawe's outspoken wrath crumbled the edifice of doubt built by circumstances in Royson's mind.

"Things have taken an extraordinary turn, sir," said he, feeling it incumbent on him to say something.

"They will turn an Italian Governor out of his position before I have done with them," was the determined answer. "Come, Mr. Royson, let us leave this man-trap. I came here In good faith, and I quit the place with the resolution that never again shall I entrust myself to the vagaries of any Jack-in-office who thinks he can browbeat a man of my repute like one of the wretched natives whom he misrules."

Royson had some difficulty in persuading his irate employer to enter the Governor's carriage. Mr. Fenshawe only yielded to the plea that it was a stiff walk to the hotel, and his granddaughter would be consumed with anxiety if any alarming news had reached her meanwhile.

The coachman took them by an open road facing the harbor. The sight of the Aphrodite lying at anchor, trimly elegant in white paint and neatly-furled sails, and sporting the ensign of a famous yacht club, led Dick to ask if his companion knew that an Italian gunboat was on the lookout for her.

"Oh, yes. His Excellency spared me no details," said Mr. Fenshawe, smiling sarcastically. "If I were a few years younger, and we had no women on board, I would not allow any threats of that sort to hinder me, and I am much mistaken in my officers and men if they refused to back me up. But, as it is, we can do nothing. That is what galls me, my complete helplessness."

"We have no heavy guns, I admit," said Dick, casting to the winds all thought of leaving the ship under present conditions, "but we have arms and ammunition in plenty to make it hot work for any one in Massowah to stop us once we are ashore."

The other sighed, whether on account of his vanished youth or the impracticable nature of the scheme, it is hard to say.

"Our weapons are meant only for defense," he said. "Von Kerber wished to guard against Arab hostility—that is all. But I do not despair of obtaining redress from Rome. Surely it cannot be known there that I am the leader of this expedition. It is so wildly absurd to treat me as a filibuster. Why, Mr. Royson, the Italian Archeological Society elected me an honorary vice-president ten years ago."

Dick had his own views as to the extent of the Aphrodite's armament, but the present was no time to air them. Moreover, he was beginning to see features of the affair that were hard to reconcile with Mr. Fenshawe's statements. In the first instance, the Governor had acted on specific Instructions, and the Roman authorities must have been well aware of the identity of the yacht's owner. Again, the person really aimed at in these high-handed proceedings was von Kerber. The Governor made no secret of the fact that the millionaire was detained solely because he declared himself a principal in the Austrian's enterprise, and it was no small token of official regret at an unpleasant incident that they were now driving to the hotel in His Excellency's private carriage. Finally, none but a man angry and humiliated would deny the right of Italy to forbid the passage through her colonial territory of a foreign force such as von Kerber had provided, a force equipped to an extent and in a manner that Mr. Fenshawe, in all likelihood, had slight knowledge of.

So Dick listened in silence to his companion's vows of diplomatic vengeance. He was resolved to talk matters over with Miss Fenshawe before he said a word about Alfieri or the news he had received from London. In fact, he had little doubt that a night's reflection would render her grandfather amenable to reason. If there were charges against von Kerber, let them be brought to light. If they were true, the Italian Foreign Office was justified in its action: if false, there would be such a hubbub that the resultant apologies would certainly be accompanied by the offer of every assistance to the objects of the expedition.

When they drew near the hotel, Royson saw Irene watching the main street anxiously from the balcony. It was rather remarkable that she should be alone, but all other thoughts were swept aside by the sight of the joy which lit her face when the carriage stopped at the portico and she learned that her grandfather had arrived from an opposite direction.

They heard her glad cry of surprise, and she hastened to meet them.

"Good gracious, grandad," she said, "where have you been? I have waited here for you ever so long, wondering what had become of you."

"The Governor was such an affable person that he refused to let me go," said Mr. Fenshawe grimly. "He has detained the Baron altogether. But let us go up-stairs. I am pining for that long-deferred tea. Where is Mrs. Haxton?"

"She is ill, I am afraid. She found the heat and noise too much for her. Half an hour ago she asked Captain Stump to take her to the yacht. Of course I told her I didn't mind being left here until some one came. But the funny part of it is that, although I was looking from the veranda, I failed to see either her or the captain leave the hotel."

By this time they were free from inquisitive eyes or ears, and Mr. Fenshawe proceeded to amaze the girl with a full recital of his disagreeable adventure. Royson noticed that she gave no heed whatever to his share in it. Her attitude was tinged with a slight disdain, and he began to feel miserably depressed until it occurred to him that she probably resented his departure on Mrs. Haxton's errand without letting her know. That was consoling, to an extent. He was sure she would forgive him when he had an opportunity of telling her exactly what had happened.

They were so engrossed in their conclave that a servant entered with lamps before they realized that daylight had waned and night was falling with the rapidity of the tropics. Mr. Fenshawe leaped up from his chair with an alertness that belied his years.

"I must break my resolution and send at least one cablegram from Massowah," he cried. "It will be harmless enough to escape mutilation, as it is to my London office directing that all correspondence must be addressed to Aden in future. You will take it for me, Royson, and pay the cost?"

Dick went off as soon as the message was ready. Irene avoided him ostentatiously while her grandfather was writing, and thereby laid herself open to the unjust suspicion that she was flirting with him. In very truth, she was torn with misgiving, and Royson's share in her thoughts was even less than he imagined. Her quick brain divined that the arrest of von Kerber had only strengthened the Austrian's claim on Mr. Fenshawe's sympathies. Like all generous-souled men, her grandfather ran to extremes, and she felt that it was hopeless now to try and shake his faith in one whom he regarded as the victim of persecution.

"Will Captain Stump come back for dinner?" inquired Mr. Fenshawe, after he had glanced through the letters which Irene brought to him.

"I hope so. Mrs. Haxton went off in such a hurry that I forgot to mention it."

"Was it illness, or anxiety, that sent her to the yacht?"

"A little of both, I fancy. But why should she be anxious? She did not know that matters had gone wrong at the fort."

"I think she made a shrewd guess, but was unwilling to alarm you. That is why she sent Mr. Royson after us. By the way, what, did she tell him to do?"

"I have no idea," said Irene coldly.

"That is odd, distinctly odd. I meant to ask him, but forgot it in my excitement."

"He will be here in a few minutes," said she, with a livelier interest.

There was a knock at the door. A negro waiter had something to say, and she gathered from a jumble of Italian and Arabic that a native wished to see the Signora Haxton. The man pronounced the name plainly, so there could be no mistake as to his meaning, and Irene answered:

"The Signora is not here."

Mr. Fenshawe was immersed in his letters again, but he looked up.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Some man is asking for Mrs. Haxton," she told him.

"Better go and interview him. If he can tell us anything, bring him here."

She went down-stairs with the attendant. He pointed to a muffled Arab near the door, who salaamed deeply the instant she appeared.

"What do you want?" she said, in Italian, and the Arab silently indicated a closed vehicle drawn up close to the curb in front of the hotel. Thinking there was some visitor inside who did not wish to alight, she went forward without hesitation. The dim, smoke-laden street was unusually crowded, she thought, but she gave no attention to the passers-by, as the Arab had opened the door of the dingy-looking vehicle, and she expected to find an occupant peering out at her.

The conveyance was empty!

"There is some mistake," she said, glancing from the dark interior to a Somali driver, and then back to the silent messenger. Suddenly she had an unnerving consciousness that several other white-sheeted figures had crept stealthily between her and the doorway. With a little cry of alarm, she turned and strove to re-enter the hotel. Instantly she was swept off her feet, a coarse hand closed on her mouth, and she was dragged with brutal force into the carriage. She saw spring into existence what seemed to be a murderous fracas among a dozen men. The street was filled with clamor, and the pavement was blocked with struggling forms. Knives flashed, brawny-armed Arabs closed in deadly combat, and cursed each other with all the rich repertory of Islam. Of course, people tried to rush from the vestibule of the hotel to ascertain what was causing the tumult. But the fighters filled the doorway so that none could enter or leave the building, and, in the midst of the alarm and confusion, the pair of Somali ponies attached to the ramshackle vehicle were whipped into a fast gallop. Then the riot subsided as quickly as it arose, and, were it not that Irene was gone, no one appeared to be much the worse.



CHAPTER IX

A GALLOP IN THE DARK

Several minor rills of events combined to produce this tempestuous torrent at the door of the Hotel Grande del Universe, and any level- headed man acquainted with their meanderings might come to the just conclusion that Irene had been kidnapped in mistake for Mrs. Haxton. He might have deplored the blunder, but, leaving out of count any humane consideration for the girl's feelings, he must have admired the stage- craft displayed by her abductors. If cool skill were worthy of success they had earned it in full measure. In fact, the achievement would have ranked high in the villainous annals of Massowah were it not for the blind chance that separated Mulai Hamed from Royson two hours earlier.

The sun sank behind the highlands of Abyssinia while the Effendi awaited the Governor's return in the guard-room of the fort. Thereupon his guide, being an orthodox Mahomedan, faced towards Mecca, knelt by the roadside, and bowed his forehead in the dust. Another devout follower of the Prophet joined him, and the two chanted their prayers in unison. It is said that hymns are seldom sung with such gusto as in convict settlements, and, appraised by this standard, Mulai Hamed and his casual companion were accomplished rascals, for they rattled off the Salat and the Sunnah unctuously, and performed the genuflections and prostrations of the Reka with military precision.

Then they exchanged news. Mulai Hamed, telling of the Giaours in the hotel, was vastly surprised to hear from his brother Mussulman, a cook in the fort, that two of the Effendis were prisoners. But the cook soon hastened away to decapitate certain skinny fowls which would form the basis of a Risotto al pollastro for dinner at the officer's mess, leaving Mulai Hamed to wonder if, perhaps, the tall Effendi had also been kept in durance vile, until he saw Mr. Fenshawe and Royson being whirled off in the Governor's carriage along the sea front.

He cursed both of them in suitable terms, and started on the long walk to the hotel. Being a born gossip, he chose the livelier route of the main street, which might yield a meeting with another acquaintance. This divergence led him near the Elephant Mosque. Abdullah, wearied of the rendezvous arranged by Mrs. Haxton for von Kerber, detected Mulai Hamed's badge, and sought information.

"Brother," said he, "I would have speech of thee." "Say on," was the courteous reply, for Mulai Hamed was flattered at being addressed thus by a man of distinction.

"There be certain Giaours at thy caravanserai, an old man, a fat man like a bull, a young man who stands more than a cubit high, and a thin man, the Hakim Effendi, whom I await here. Hast thou any knowledge of them?"

Mulai Hamed checked the list carefully.

"It must be," said he at last, "that the Hakim Effendi is in jail, for the others I have seen, but not him."

Abdullah was annoyed. He, a pure-blooded Bedouin of the desert, had already made a great concession In using the word "brother" to one of mixed race.

"I asked not for folly," he muttered. "That is the answer of a drunken Frank."

"Nay, friend, I speak truly. May I never drink at the White Pond of the Prophet if I have not told thee even that which I have heard."

Abdullah swallowed his wrath, listened to Mulai Hamed's story, and was convinced. Notwithstanding Mrs. Haxton's prohibition, it was now essential that he should see her without delay, so he accompanied the deputy assistant hall-porter in the direction of the hotel. As they went, they met a rickety closed carriage being driven at a furious rate down a side street, and both men thought it was making for the mile- long causeway which connects the island of Massowah with the mainland.

"Who travels in such a hurry?" asked Abdullah, looking after the swaying vehicle.

"Perchance a kafila starts for the interior to-night," said Mulai Hamed. But the turmoil in the vicinity of the hotel now drew their attention, and they ran with others, for public blood-letting is ever an attractive pastime to those who form the audience.

Dick was then leaving the telegraph-office, whence he had despatched a cablegram on his own account. Bare civility demanded that he should acknowledge Mr. Forbes's various communications, so he sent the brief message: "Writing, Royson," which, he thought, covered the ground sufficiently. Before rejoining Mr. Fenshawe and Irene, he walked a little way towards the harbor, and, as he half expected, met Stump returning from the yacht.

He proceeded to astonish that stout mariner with the evening's budget, but Stump had been thinking things out in his own fashion, and he set forth a theory which apparently accounted for von Kerber's discomfiture.

"You see, it's this way," said he. "These bloomin' I-talians have got the griffin about that treasure. And who gev' it to 'em? Why, that chap who arranged the hold-up at Marseilles. You said nothin' much about it, which was right an' proper, but Tagg is sharper'n he looks, an' he tole me that a paper was nicked out of von Kerber's pocket. That paper put the sharks on the scent. They got ahead of the Aphrodite by catchin' the Indian mail at Brindisi, an' had everything cut an' dried for us when we dropped anchor here. Miss Irene an' me spotted one of 'em watchin' the hotel this afternoon."

"I believe that man was Alfieri," said Dick, "Indeed, Mrs. Haxton admitted it to me, and it was his unexpected appearance that caused her to beat a retreat."

"An' who's Mr. Alfie Wot's-his-name?" broke in Stump.

"I'm sorry. I forgot that you had not heard of him. He is the man who secured the papyrus, or paper, at Marseilles. Both Mrs. Haxton and the Baron are afraid of him."

"You seem to know a dooce of a lot about this business," exclaimed the skipper testily.

"I cannot help that—I have been dragged into it in many ways, each peculiar, and hardly credible when considered collectively. I promise you, captain, that I shall tell you the whole story one of these days. Meanwhile, I think that the sooner we are at Aden the better it will be for Mr. Fenshawe and the ladies, and I offer you the respectful advice that you should back up Miss Fenshawe if she tries to persuade her grandfather to go there at once."

"Funny thing," growled Stump, "but them's Mrs. Haxton's very words as I helped her up the ship's ladder. Hello! Where's the fire? Unless I'm much mistaken, young feller, there's a first-class row goin' on outside our bloomin' cafe. No, no, don't you butt in among Arabs as though you was strollin' down Edgware Road on a Saturday night, an' get mixed up in a coster rough-an'-tumble. These long-legged swine would knife you just for the fun of it. Keep full an' by, an' let any son of a gun who comes too near have it where it'll stop him."

Stump's sound precautions were unnecessary. None of the combatants approached them. Indeed, the struggle ceased as quickly as it began, and they were in the hotel before the frightened servants dared make known the thrilling fact that the young lady was missing. The negro who accompanied her down-stairs was positive that she had gone off of her own accord in the carriage that was standing outside, but Mr. Fenshawe's frantic protestations when the scared manager told him what had happened convinced Royson that the servant's statement was wildly absurd. Moreover, it became clearer each second that Mrs. Haxton, and not Irene, was the prize sought by the marauders. Royson, though in a white heat of helpless rage, soon became alive to this element in an otherwise inexplicable outrage, and endeavored to soothe Mr. Fenshawe's wild-eyed alarm by telling him the girl would surely be sent back as soon as the error was discovered.

There was no time for explanations. All was panic and useless running to and fro. A messenger was sent to summon the police, and matters were in a state of chaos when Royson was approached by an Arab whose clearly-chiseled features, arched eyebrows and high cheek-bones showed that he was of different lineage to the hybrids of the coast. His carriage, too, was that of a man of consequence, and he wore his burnous rather in the Algerian style. This was Abdullah, who had gathered from the negro's now almost incoherent words that Mrs. Haxton had been spirited away In the carriage. He had his own reasons for believing that the lady would encounter difficulties in Massowah, and the man spoke her name readily, whereas Miss Fenshawe's was unknown to either of them.

"Monsieur," said he, addressing Dick quietly in excellent French, "can you ride?"

"Yes," said Dick, hoping against hope that this calm-eyed stranger might be able to give him some sorely needed clue as to the manner, at least, of Irene's capture.

"Come with me, then," continued Abdullah, in the same guarded tone. "I think I may be able to find out where Madame has been taken."

"You can demand your own reward if you speak truly," said Dick. "Let me bring you to Mr. Fenshawe. He will tell you—"

"I seek the aid of none but you," whispered Abdullah, "I come to you only because you are a European, and I must have some one to justify me lest trouble should arise. I am unknown here, and my words would fall on deaf ears. You look like a man who can handle affairs. Come monsieur, we are losing time."

"But I must tell my friends."

"No, that is not to be thought of, monsieur. If I am right, you and I alone must deal with this affair. These others are excited. They will shout their news to the whole bazaar. And, if we fail, we shall return in half an hour. Not a word to any one, but follow me."

Abdullah had the air of a man who knew his own mind. He strode away at once without looking to right or left, and Royson yielded to the impulse which bade him not hesitate but accept the proffered assistance in the search for Irene. Action of any sort was preferable to a maddening wait for tardy officialdom, so he hastened after the Arab.

The latter turned into the first side street. The absence of lamps, and a thin stratum of smoke clinging to the surface of the ground, made the gloom almost impenetrable, but Abdullah kept on with unhesitating steps, and Royson walked behind him rather than risk the chance of colliding with the strange shapes of men and animals which often loomed up abruptly out of the void.

In a few minutes the smoke-cloud cleared, and he found that they had reached the outskirts of the native quarter. The houses were no longer huddled together; small hovels took the place of cramped and lofty tenements. Soon he could see dark masses of hills silhouetted against the sky, where its dense blue merged into the amber and green of the last flicker of daylight. Not far distant, a sheet of water, still as a mirror, reflected sky and hills in even more pronounced chiaroscuro, and he had just distinguished the straight black ridge of the landward causeway when Abdullah dived into a wattle-built hut.

The Arab had not uttered a syllable during their rapid walk, and Royson determined not to question him, since his offer of help was made voluntarily, and he seemed to prefer silence to speech. The Englishman was undecided whether or not to enter the hut, which was apparently untenanted, but the eager whinny of a horse quickly explained Abdullah's disappearance. There was some stamping of unshod hoofs on the hard earth, some straining of girths and clink of steel, and the Arab led forth a slenderly built animal which, at first sight, seemed to be far too light for a rider of Dick's proportions.

The horse's owner, however, showed no misgivings on this point. He handed the bridle to Dick.

"Attendez ici un moment, s'il vous plait, monsieur" he said, and ran off towards another hut. The horse tried to follow its master, and Royson found distraction for a jumble of incoherent thoughts in the need there was to restrain its fretfulness. The animal was afraid of him; in all probability it had never before been handled by a European, but Dick spoke to it in the lingua franca of the stable, and he was soon allowed to stroke the arched neck and twine his fingers in the thick yellow mane.

Abdullah did not return so speedily as was his intent. He had gone to borrow another mount, and met with delay, because the owner was in the bazaar. But fortune helped him by sending the man back earlier than usual for the evening meal, and when he cantered up after an absence of ten minutes, he lost no more time.

"You are sure you can ride well, monsieur?" he demanded.

"Quite sure."

"Into the saddle, then, and let the reins hang loose. Moti will carry you safely, and it is but a broken road over the bridge."

Away they went, crossing some rough ground at an easy gallop, and Dick had his first experience of the remarkable sure-footedness of the Arab horse in his proper environment. Moti moved with the long lope of a greyhound, and used eyes and intelligence as well as feet. The pace set by Abdullah on the uneven causeway seemed to be dangerous, and would have brought down any animals but those accustomed to stone-strewn valleys or deserts in which patches of soft sand alternate with bare rock. When the mainland was reached, Royson rode alongside his companion.

"Where are we going?" he inquired.

"To a village. It is not far distant. There we may obtain news."

They pressed on. Were it not for the nature of his errand, Dick would have enjoyed the ride greatly, for the current of cool air was pleasing after the heat of Massowah, and Moti carried him as though he were a feather-weight. But his heart was too care-laden to enter into the spirit of the adventure. Of all the queer incidents of an eventful day this gallop into an unknown land was the queerest. He could not help asking himself if he had done right. Yet the reassuring answer came instantly. He had left indecision behind when he agreed to the Arab's conditions, and it was surely better to try whatever fixed plan the other had in mind than remain in Massowah, a prey to hopeless, purposeless agony. For he knew now what it would mean to him if Irene Fenshawe were reft from his life, and the knowledge made his eyes blaze, and sent the passionate blood coursing through his veins.

"Easily, monsieur. This is the place."

The Arab's strong, somewhat harsh voice, though pitched in a key not meant to reach too far, brought Royson back to his senses. Imitating his guide, he tightened the reins and pulled Moti to a walk. Then he made another discovery. They were on a Government road, which happened, at that point, to have a smooth surface, and Moti stumbled disgracefully, for your true desert Arab will fall over himself when he no longer needs to exercise his wits in order to keep his feet.

Behind a tumble-down hut a fire was blazing. Some men were squatted around a tripod which supported a large iron pot. One was speaking, and even Royson's untrained ear recognized the measured cadence of the story-teller. A rumble of laughter showed that the protest of some discomfited rogue or some wise moullah's saw had just tickled the audience when Abdullah leaped from the saddle and approached the circle.

"Peace be with you, brethren," said he, bowing gravely.

The story-teller broke off abruptly. One of the men rose and replied:

"With you be peace, brother, and the mercy of God, and His blessings."

This formula made it certain that the group near the fire were Mahomedans. "Es-salamu aleikum!" is at once the test of the believer and the "Open, Sesame!" of the desert. Abdullah was sure now of a hearing, sure even of counsel and assistance, provided that his interests did not run counter to theirs.

Royson, dismounting for the sake of Moti, watched Abdullah's face in the flickering light of the fire to learn whether or not he was receiving the expected news. He might as well have sought inspiration from the starry vault overhead. But he was not long kept in suspense. After the exchange of a few sentences with the man who had returned his salutation, Abdullah vouchsafed a brief translation.

"Not many minutes ago a carriage passed this way. It took the road to the left, where it forks, not a hundred meters distant. We must ride hard, monsieur, for the driver was flogging his beasts. Perhaps we may have good fortune."

They were up, and away, thrusting into the darkness in a fast gallop. At the parting of the roads they took the southern track, and the land almost immediately became hilly. They eased the horses somewhat during a long upward climb, but a plateau, followed by a gentle descent towards the shore, gave them a chance of mending the pace, and the wiry Arabs beneath them seemed to know that the more quickly the miles were covered the less distance would they be called on to travel.

On the level again, where the occulting beam of the Massowah lighthouse was hidden by the buildings on the island, they unexpectedly came upon a disabled vehicle. It was tilted on the side of the road in a way that suggested a broken wheel, and a man was holding two ponies which had been taken out of the traces.

Abdullah pulled his steed almost on to its haunches, so suddenly did he draw rein. He pushed close to the horse-tender, a Somali, and a fierce dialogue broke out, which ended in the wrathful statement to Royson:

"This son of a slave says that this is not the carriage which passed me in the bazaar. I believe he is lying, but what can I do?"

Dick, meanwhile, had ascertained that the conveyance was empty. His gorge rose at the thought that Irene might be near him at that moment, yet prevented by some ruffian from making known her presence. The belief was torturing; it impelled him to a deed which, in calmer mood, he would have declared foreign to his nature.

Handing Moti to Abdullah's care, he went so near to the driver, a man of powerful build, that he could look into his sullen face. With a quickness born of many a bout with the gloves, he seized the Somali by the wrists, causing him to let go the ponies' bridles. Then, heedless of straggles and oaths, he backed him a little space, threw him off his feet, and three times whirled him through the air around his head. It was an exhibition of strength that forced a cry of amazement even from Abdullah.

"Now tell him," said Dick, when the panting and terrified native was allowed to stand upright again, "tell him that if he does not speak the truth, I shall take him by the ankles and beat out his brains against the rocks in that same way."

"By the Holy Kaaba!" chuckled Abdullah, "that would be worth seeing."

He conquered his desire sufficiently to put the threat into blood- curdling Arabic, and the Somali whined that he was a poor man, who only obeyed orders, but, if the god-like Nazarene would spare his life, he was ready to tell all he knew.

"Speak, then, and quickly," growled Abdullah, "for the Effendi understands thee not, and he may lose patience."

The driver stammered something which almost roused the Arab to excitement.

"Throw that dog aside, monsieur," he cried. "They are taking the lady to a boat. The place agreed for the meeting is yet nearly a thousand meters in front. Let us see what our horses can do."

They were off before he had finished speaking, but Abdullah smiled as he rode.

"Bismillah!" he muttered, "that is a fine trick. I must learn it."

On through the night they went, and happily the broken land receded here a little from the shore, leaving the road straight and fairly visible.

They had gone half a mile or more, and Royson was beginning to fear that either the Somali had been daring enough to mislead them or that Irene's guards had been warned by the noise of their advance and were crouching behind a clump of reeds until they passed, when Abdullah lifted a restraining hand, and slackened pace.

Though the night was clear, and neighboring objects were quite discernible, Royson failed to pierce the further darkness. He strained his eyes, but could see nothing, while the Arab seemed to have a sixth sense which warned him that there were others near. They pulled up, and listened. Dick could hear only the labored breathing of their horses, yet Abdullah was evidently satisfied that their long chase was drawing to an end.

"Bear to the left, monsieur," he whispered. "They are there, by the water's edge. When I give the word, ride apart lest they fire at us, though they will hardly dare do that, lest we might prove to be soldiers from the garrison. Are you armed?"

"Sufficiently," said Dick grimly.

He felt able to tear any one limb from limb who resisted him. Once sure of his quarry, he would give short shrift. So they crept on, until the Arab shouted "Now!" and started off at a canter. Dick realized that the circling movement was best, as it suggested an attack in force, so he took a slight detour. He was closing in again before he perceived some irregular shadows, showing black against the translucent film of smooth water. That sufficed. He thundered on ahead of Abdullah, who, perhaps, thought it advisable to leave this final development in the hands of a European. There was a scurry among a small knot of men on the beach. A sharp hail was answered at a considerable distance from the sea. Royson rode with such furious speed that he now made out a white-robed female figure struggling in the grasp of a man attired in the burnous and hood of a coast Arab.

"Is that you, Miss Fenshawe?" he roared.

At the sound of an English voice three men scattered and fled like rabbits, but the fourth, he who clutched the woman, set her at liberty and drew a long knife. He bellowed forth some order, and another shout came from the sea. Then he poised himself ready to strike. Royson was within a horse's length, leaning forward in the saddle, when he caught the gleam of the uplifted weapon. At the same instant he recognized Irene, and saw that she was gagged, and her hands were tied behind her back. But her feet were free, and she deliberately kicked the Arab's ankle, thereby disconcerting his murderous thrust and nearly bringing him to the ground.

Then Royson's clenched fist fell like a sledge-hammer on his adversary's skull, and the man collapsed with a broken neck. Moti, well named "the Pearl," seemed to play this sort of game with the skill that a trained polo-pony shows in following the ball. He stopped almost of his own accord, wheeled, and allowed Dick to lift the girl in his arms.

Abdullah, who did not attempt to pursue the others, had not failed to note the rapid approach of a boat.

"Quick, now, monsieur," he said. "Make for the road!"

As they cantered off they heard some shouting in Arabic, and a few words of Italian, but Dick was looking into Irene's eyes. He was conscious only that he held her in a close embrace. His heart was thumping against his ribs. For one who had proved himself cool in an emergency he betrayed all the symptoms of unusual excitement.

"Are you uninjured?" he asked, with a marvelous tenderness in his voice, while his lips were very near to her swathed cheek.

She nodded. He fancied he caught a smile in her eyes. He did not know how lover-like was his clasp.

"We shall stop soon and release your bonds," he whispered. "Thank God I was able to find you."

Again he believed she smiled, but those beautiful brown eyes of hers seemed to fill with tears. He set his teeth, and breathed hard, but he was too wary to jeopardize success by halting until all danger of pursuit had disappeared. Then he pulled up, dismounted, and lifted Irene to the ground. She was gagged so tightly that he had to exercise some care in cutting the knotted strips of linen which bound her face and head. A piece of coarse sacking had been thrust into her mouth, and she scarce had the power to utter a word when the brutal contrivance was withdrawn.

"Oh, Mr. Royson," she managed to gasp, "how can I thank you!"

"By not trying to talk until you feel better," said Dick. "There is a village not far away, and we should at least obtain some water there."

He was bending over her wrists in his anxiety not to hurt her unduly while he severed a stout rope, and he could not see the expression of sheer bewilderment which again mastered the usually impassive features of Abdullah. The Arab had yielded to unwonted surprise when he saw Royson use a man as flail, but the removal of the gag, and the consequent revelation of Irene's identity, nearly stupefied him.

"May jackals defile my grave," he muttered, "but this is the wrong woman! Here have I, Abdullah the Spear-thrower, been, befooled by a black slave in the caravanserai. What have I done? By the beard of the Prophet, what shall I say if her capture was part of the Hakim Effendi's plan?"



CHAPTER X

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

When Irene was freed from her bonds she sighed deeply, uttered a little sob as though her soul had fluttered to her lips, and sank into Royson's arms. In the ever-growing darkness he had not realized earlier how acute was the torture she was enduring. She must have experienced some difficulty in breathing, owing to the outrageous manner in which her mouth and nostrils were covered. Yet, to render her quite helpless, her wrists were tied with such cruel force that they became swollen and stiff, and her delicate skin was chafed until it galled beneath the rope.

While Royson was carrying her on the high-peaked Arab saddle, the strain grew almost intolerable, but her brave heart did not flinch under that exquisite pain. Though she could not speak, she strove to reward him with a valiant smile, and even conquered the gush of tears that gave momentary tribute to her agony. And now she lay in a dead faint, pallid and inert, while Royson said bitter things about Alfieri. He blamed the Italian for all this mad business, and vowed harsh vengeance on him if ever they met again. He was quite unable to help Irene. He had less than the average man's vague knowledge of the right treatment to adopt under such conditions. He imagined that the hands and face of a fainting woman should be bathed in water, and was about to take her back to the shore when Abdullah intervened.

"It is nothing, monsieur," said he, with true Eastern nonchalance where the opposite sex was concerned. "Her head and arms ache now that her bonds are removed. If Allah wills it, she should revive presently. And we cannot remain here. Whether she live or die let us go on, in God's name."

Despite the flurry of his new predicament, the Englishman caught a hint of petulance in the Arab's tone. It denoted a change of attitude that was all the more surprising when contrasted with the man's previous eagerness to serve him. But there was sound sense in the advice thus gruffly tendered. He managed to remount by tucking the girl's swaying form under his left arm. Then he pillowed her head on his shoulder, and, letting the horse walk, strove to rub her hands. Fortunately, Moti did not stumble. Perhaps the weight of a double burthen suggested the need of care, but, whatever the explanation of the animal's excellent behavior, they reached the broken-down carriage without accident. The driver had gone off with his pair of ponies, but Abdullah, ruefully making the best of a perplexing situation, searched under the box seat for the porous earthenware jar of water which is often carried there in the East. By good hap, he found one, nearly half full.

"Here," he mattered Impatiently, "let her drink some of this, and pour the rest over her head and hands. Then the cold air will freshen her. And be quick, monsieur! Those who follow will not wait on ceremony."

Royson substituted a soaked handkerchief for Abdullah's drastic remedy, but he soon had the satisfaction of seeing Irene's lips move. Then, after testing the water to make sure it was drinkable, he gave her a mouthful, and, within a few seconds, she was in partial possession of her senses. Nevertheless, for an appreciable time, her gallant, spirit flagged. She tried feebly to brush the wet strands of hair out of her eyes.

"Why are we stopping here?" she moaned. "Please take me home. I am so tired—and thirsty—and my mouth hurts me. Where is the yacht? What are we doing here?"

"I thought, she would recover soon," broke in Abdullah. "Now, monsieur, at all costs we must reach the town. The hour grows late. Ride on!"

It was remarkable, to say the least, that one who was willing to face unknown odds in order to effect the girl's rescue should be so desperately anxious now to get away from a rather improbable pursuit. Yet again, the Arab's suggestion offered the only practicable course, and Moti had to bear a double load while they slowly climbed the hill down which they dashed so precipitately before they came upon the disabled vehicle. This time, Dick managed to seat his fair partner more comfortably. He placed himself well back against the cantle, lifted Irene across his knees, and drew her right arm around his neck.

Once more she sighed. Dick feared it was the preliminary to another collapse, until she whispered in delightful confidence:

"I remember now, Mr. Royson. I suppose I fainted. How good you are to me!"

"Now, may Heaven be praised that you are all right again," breathed Dick fervently. "You gave me the biggest sort of fright when you nearly dropped on the road."

"Have we far to go before we reach the hotel?"

"Several miles. It took us about three-quarters of an hour to overtake you, and we came at a rare pace."

"I am sure I must be making your arm ache."

She tried to straighten herself, and Royson missed the warm fragrance of her hair against his cheek.

"I really think you ought not to move," said he, with an affectation of brotherly solicitude that did him credit.

"Well, if I am not wearying you," she murmured, and the pretty head nestled contentedly on his shoulder. Then, it may be, she thought that if necessity demanded this lover-like pose, she ought to redeem its literalness by conversation.

"Who is your Arab friend who speaks French so well?" she asked. "It was French I heard, was it not? And how in the world did you manage to find out where I was taken to?"

"You must thank our companion for that. I happened to meet Stump near the telegraph-office, and we saw a disturbance in the main street near the hotel. We hurried up, little imagining that it affected you, and several precious minutes elapsed before we discovered that you were missing. Mr. Fenshawe—"

"Ah, poor, darling grandad! I hardly dare ask you how he bore it. I grieved more for him than for myself. You see, I knew it was all a wretched mistake. Those horrid men meant to carry off Mrs. Haxton."

"I gathered as much from what Mr. Fenshawe said. Of course, he was very greatly distressed, but, if matters go well with us now, you will be restored to him in another hour."

"I have no fear of anything when you are near, Mr. Royson. Something told me that long ago. And that is why I was vexed with you for leaving me this afternoon."

Dick's heart gave a great throb of joy, and his voice was somewhat husky as he answered:

"I could not help myself. The Italian whom you and Captain Stump noticed in the street was Alfieri. Mrs. Haxton saw him, too, and I would never have believed that terror could alter a woman's face as it altered hers. She begged of me to find von Kerber, and warn him, and I thought, perhaps foolishly, that if I obeyed her wishes it might bring about the very thing you and I most desire."

Irene did not reply immediately. She felt unaccountably timid.

"It is stupid of me, but I do not quite follow your meaning," she volunteered at last.

"Well, you are anxious that this expedition should be abandoned, and I ought to return to England, where I am in great demand, it seems, after some years of scandalous neglect."

"Oh!" she said. "Is that it?"

There was another pause.

"But the fact that Mrs. Haxton, and not I, should be sitting here so— so confidentially—does not explain how it comes about, does it?" she went on.

"I was so interested in what you were saying that I lost the thread of my story. We were listening to an excited jabber of nonsense in the hotel—for instance, one of the negro servants said you went away of your own free will—and wondering what on earth we could do, when this genii of an Arab came to me in a mysterious way, and led me straight on your track. Shall we bid him discourse?"

"Oh, please do. It is all so wonderful. I could see through the open windows of that hateful carriage when we crossed the causeway and went off to the left into a wild country. I gave up hope then. Your appearance on the beach was an actual miracle, to my thinking."

"Just one word before we tackle our guide," whispered Dick, bringing his lips as near hers as he dared. "Though it was dark enough down there by the water, I saw you lash out at that fellow with the knife at precisely the right moment."

"Don't, don't." she cried, shuddering, and lifting her eyes to his in a fleeting upward glance. "I hope I shall soon forget those few awful seconds. I knew he meant to stab you, and I wanted to scream, but could not. He seemed to be the leader of the party, and he flew into such a rage when the wheel gave way that I really believe he was ready to kill me out of spite. You knocked him down, didn't you? It maybe wicked, but I hope you hit him hard."

"Yes," said Dick, "I think your score is paid in that instance."

Her head was bent, and she could not see the grim smile on his lips. It was an odd thing to remember at that moment, but he recalled the fact that his famous ancestor could fell a bullock with his clenched fist.

Abdullah, when given the opportunity, was readier to ply them with questions than to answer theirs. He said his name was "El Jaridiah," which was true enough, this being the title he bore among his fellow- tribesmen. He also explained that he met Mulai Hamed, and happened to see the direction taken by the vehicle when it dashed clear of the scrimmage in the street. But he modestly disclaimed any special credit for his share in subsequent events, stating that he had many friends among the European colony at Cairo, and was naturally willing to help a lady against the thievish dogs who inhabited Massowah.

Yet Dick added a third to these two earlier subtle enigmas in "El Jaridiah's" characteristics when he heard the Arab's unfeigned pleasure at the statement that it was not the lady actually rescued, but a friend of hers, whom the thievish dogs aforesaid meant to carry off. Abdullah then saw a path out of the thorny labyrinth which beset him. It was evident that in serving Miss Fenshawe he had displayed his fidelity to Mrs. Haxton! The notion was so gratifying that he made a suggestion which assuredly would not otherwise have occurred to him. When they reached the camp-fire where they were supplied with such valuable information on their outward journey, he would obtain some goat's milk for Madame, he said, and that would not only restore her strength but go far towards alleviating the soreness caused by the gag.

He kept his promise. The milk was brought in a dubious vessel, but the girl vowed she never tasted a more delicious beverage. They resumed their march, Irene's head dropped cozily to the region of Dick's heart, and that wayward organ thumped again in the most alarming way.

Once the causeway was crossed, Abdullah called a halt.

"This road leads into the main street, monsieur," said he to Royson. "It is quite near. If the lady is able to walk to the hotel, it will attract less attention than riding. Meanwhile, I can take the horses to their stables, and hasten in advance to tell your friends that you are safe."

They agreed instantly. Royson did not forget to pat the plucky little Arab that had carried him to the Gates of Eden, and Irene said that if it were feasible she would buy Moti and have him sent to England. And thus they parted from Abdullah, thinking to meet him again five minutes later.

But their next encounter with the Spear-thrower was destined to take place under strange conditions. His present intent was to slip away and seek an interview with Mrs. Haxton, as he had managed to worm out the information that she was on board the yacht. The last thing he desired was to be dragged into prominence. Though he had not been taught that a man might "do good by stealth and blush to find it fame," he was specially anxious that his action of that night should not be trumpeted forth in every ear.

Long before they gained the main thoroughfare, both Royson and Irene were conscious of many prying eyes. Not a few passers-by yielded frankly to curiosity and followed them. The girl, of course, was hatless. Her dress of fine muslin was of a style and texture seldom seen in Massowah, and if the rare beauty of her face could excite comment in Hyde Park it would surely not pass unnoticed in a small and semi-barbarous Red Sea port.

Royson, too, though his white drill uniform was familiar enough to the public, was out of keeping with his surroundings. He towered among the puny Italians; not a stalwart negro nor gaunt Arab in the throng could equal him in stature and physique.

So they both agreed in thinking that they were much more at ease when Moti was carrying them along the dark road of the mainland than now while hurrying through the packed and dimly-lighted streets. But the sensation they created in the bazaar was as naught compared with the overwhelming effect of their arrival in the Grand Hotel of the Universe. Two officers of gendarmerie and a round dozen of soldier- policemen became incoherent at sight of them. The hotel manager nearly wept with joy. He tumbled up-stairs, tripping not once but several times, in his eagerness to make known to the English milord that the Signorina Fenshawe had returned. The vestibule filled in the most amazing way with a crowd that seemed to speak all languages under the sun. Mr. Fenshawe rushed to the head of the stairs as soon as he grasped the meaning of the manager's dramatic announcement, and a combined "Ah!" of gratification gushed from a hundred throats when Irene flung herself into his arms. Clearly, this affair had stirred Massowah to its depths. It would supply food for gossip during many a day. That long drawn-out "Ah!" was, in some sense, a testimony to Abdullah's wisdom.

While Irene was sobbing her joy on her grandfather's breast, Stump crushed a broad track through the ever-increasing mob until he reached Royson.

"I was bettin' on you from the minnit I missed you," he roared genially. "You're a fair wonder, an' no mistake. By Gad, how did you manage it? The Governor has raised the whole crimson town, I will say that for him. I don't know his lingo, but I rather fancy he swore to have a scalp for every hair on Miss Irene's head if she didn't turn up afore daylight. Where was she? Who took her off? The police are huntin' for your friend Alfie this hour an' more."

Stump's concluding item was at once gratifying and puzzling.

"How did they come to suspect him?" asked Dick, ignoring the rest of his commander's outburst.

"Mrs. Haxton put 'em on his track. You see, it was this way. I sent the jolly-boat's crew back to the yacht with, orders that Tagg was to arm every mother's son on board, an' be ready for action when Mr. Fenshawe gev the word. The old man wasn't half mad, I can tell you. I take my solemn davy he'd have stormed that bloomin' fort to-morrow mornin'. Mrs. Haxton heard about the trouble, an' wrote a note sayin' as how that Dago we saw to-day was at the bottom of the whole dam business. She tole Mr. Fenshawe to demand von Kerber's release. He was the on'y man who could handle Alfie, she said, an', wot between our commodore's threat to land an armed force, an' the red-hot cables he's bin sendin' to London an' Rome, sink me if the Governor isn't scared to death."

"Is the Baron at liberty, then?"

"Not yet. There's no knowin' wot might have happened if you'd kep away another hour or two. The ole man has raised Cain, I can tell you. But, look here, I'm doin' all the talkin', an' it ain't fair."

"Did no one tell you a few minutes ago that Miss Fenshawe had escaped and was hurrying here with me?"

"Ax me another," growled Stump. Then he eyed Royson critically. "I know wot's wrong with you," he went on. "You're light-headed for want of a drink. Come out of it. Damme, you need lubricatin'!"

They went to the upper floor, and Mr. Fenshawe hurried to grasp Dick's hand.

"I will not endeavor to thank you now," he said brokenly. "My gratitude is too deep for words, but—believe me, Mr. Royson—if I had lost my little girl—it would have killed me."

The hotel manager came to Dick's relief. With a face all wrinkled in a satisfied grin, he informed them that "dinner was now served." The poor man had been waiting two hours to make that announcement, and Irene's gleeful appreciation of this low comedy close to the night's adventures showed that she was little the worse either in health or spirits. She would not hear of a doctor's being summoned. She assured her grandfather that soreness of lips and wrists would not impair her appetite, but she hoped that the dinner would not be utterly spoiled if it were delayed two minutes longer—she had actually forgotten to bring forward the Arab who had helped Mr. Royson to rescue her!

Yet, search as they might, El Jaridiah was not to be found. None knew him, nor had any news of the girl's safety been received until she was seen in the vestibule. Though mystified, they were far too excited to pay special heed to the circumstance at the time. Both Irene and Royson believed that the man was detained by some slight difficulty with regard to the horses, one of which, they knew, was borrowed. They said that surely he would come to the hotel ere dinner was ended. But he came not. The only interruption to a lively meal was supplied by the Governor, who showed very proper official horror when he heard the story of Irene's abduction, and saw the evidences of the rough usage to which she had been subjected.

He was so urbane and apologetic, and promised such impartial punishment both for the persons who inspired the outrage and for those who actually carried it out, that Mr. Fenshawe deferred to the morrow the stern protest he meant to register against von Kerber's detention. It was quite true, as Stump told Royson, that strongly-worded cablegrams were despatched to London and Rome earlier in the evening. Diplomatic representations would certainly be made in both capitals, and the yacht-owner felt that the local authorities would now leave matters entirely to the Italian Colonial Minister.

So a truce was proclaimed. Before he left them, the Governor drank to Miss Fenshawe's health in the best champagne that the Grand Hotel of the Universe could produce.

The four people rose from their belated meal at half past ten. A sailor came from the Aphrodite in response to a message sent by Stump announcing Miss Fenshawe's return. The jolly-boat was waiting to take them on board, he said, and they walked to the jetee, escorted by the whole body of gens d'armes who had mounted guard at the hotel.

The long pull across the starlit waters of the harbor was peculiarly refreshing and restful after the thrilling events of the day. Irene said with a laugh that it was almost worth while being kidnapped for the sake of becoming a heroine, and Mr. Fenshawe yielded to the soothing influence of the hour in expressing the opinion that he expected to hear of the Baron's unconditional release early next day.

"By the way," said the girl, speaking to the boatswain, "how was Mrs. Haxton when you left the yacht?"

"She was all right, miss, when I saw her about nine o'clock. She was just goin' ashore—"

"Going ashore!" For the life of her, Irene could not help the blank wonderment of that repetition.

"Yes, miss. An Arab kem for her."

"Are you sure?"

"Sartin, miss. It was about two bells when that craft hailed us—wasn't it, Bill?"

The sailor thus unexpectedly appealed to was taken by surprise. He nearly swallowed a quid of tobacco before he answered:

"That's correct. It struck two bells just arter they shoved off."

"Do you know where Mrs. Haxton meant to go? I mean, was she making for the hotel?"

"I didn't happen to hear, miss. But Mr. Tagg was talkin' to the lady. P'raps he can tell you." From the silence prevailing among her companions Irene was aware that they were as much astounded by the man's statement as she herself. It was impossible to discuss the matter further in front of the boat's crew, but the girl whispered, to Royson, who was sitting near her:

"Did you ever hear anything more amazing? She could not have missed us. What can be her object in going off alone?"

"We may be able to answer those questions, and others, when we find out who it was that came for her."

"Some Arab, the man says. How strange that Mrs. Haxton should be acquainted with an Arab in Massowah!"

Mr. Fenshawe bent towards them.

"Do not forget," he said in a low voice, "that Mrs. Haxton may not have heard earlier of von Kerber's arrest. I am inclined to think that he has managed to communicate with her in some manner. A curious letter I received to-day may throw light on the problem. I was reading it when that hotel man burst in on me with the news of your escapade, Irene. To tell the truth, I have not given much thought to it since."

Royson was convinced that Mrs. Haxton, finding the game was up, had flown. But Tagg's version of the lady's sudden departure did not lend color to this view. He stated that a shore boat came alongside a few minutes before nine o'clock, and an Arab, who was its sole passenger, stood up and said clearly:

"Me Abdullah. See Madame Haxton."

That, seemingly, was the full extent of the man's English. He repeated the sentence until Tagg sent Miss Fenshawe's maid to tell Mrs. Haxton that an Arab named Abdullah was asking for her.

"She kem at once," said Tagg, "an' they began to parleyvoo as quick as you like—"

"They spoke French?" broke in Irene, with a sidelong glance at Dick. The far-fetched notion which gripped him instantly had also occurred to the girl.

"Yes, miss. You can allus tell French by the mongin' an' bongin' an' tongin' that goes on."

At another time Irene would have hailed Tagg's subtle humor with glee, but there was an element of deadly earnest in the history of the past few hours that kept her strictly to the issue.

"This Arab—" she said, "was he a tall, good-looking man with a striped hood to his burnous, his outer cloak, you know?"

"That's him," agreed Tagg. "More like a fellow you'd see at Tangier than in these parts. You know the sort of chap I mean, cap'n?"

"I do," said Stump. "Reg'lar stage Arabs, they are. Sort of Frenchified, with clipped whiskers."

"But please tell me what happened," cried Irene breathlessly.

"Well, miss, there ain't much to tell. They had a serious confab for five minutes, an' then she tells me she's goin' ashore. 'Wot time will ye be back, m'am, an' I'll send a boat,' sez I. 'I dunno,' sez she, 'I may be late, so I shall return in a native boat.' She axed your maid, miss, to bring a wrap from her cabin, and she was gone without another word."

"Then that settles it," interposed Mr. Fenshawe dryly. "Mrs. Haxton is a lady who knows her own mind. She is fully qualified to take care of herself. Off you go to bed, Irene. Sufficient for the day is the excitement thereof. And, according to present Indications, we shall be kept busy to-morrow. Goodnight, Mr. Royson. I shall be better able to thank you in the morning."

Irene, too, held out a hand to Dick.

"I'm making up all sorts of nice compliments to offer you," she said, pleasantly. "You need, not protest. I was gagged for the best part of an hour when I very specially wanted to talk, so I have a whole lot of things to say after breakfast."

Dick read the meaning of the glance she flashed at him. Oddly enough, it expressed his own thought. They must endeavor to find out how Mrs. Haxton came to be such a close acquaintance of El Jaridiah's. Not only had he risked his life when he fancied she was in danger, but she, on her part, was willing to return with him to Massowah under cover of the night—to Massowah, whence she had fled in terror not many hours earlier.



CHAPTER XI

A WOMAN INTERVENES

When Mrs. Haxton descended the yacht's gangway, and seated herself in the boat which had brought Abdullah from the shore, she threw a main with fate. But she was acting with her eyes open, whereas poor mortality is oft called on to take that dangerous hazard blindfold. During several haggard hours she had weighed her prospects in the scale of judgment, and the balance was wofully unfavorable. Wealth she had none; and now she saw position slipping away also. As sure as the sun would rise next day, so sure was it, as matters stood then, that exposure and humiliation must arrive. To this hard, level-headed, shrewd woman there was no blinking the outcome of an official inquiry. Alfieri was in Massowah, Alfieri, the man she had wronged as Delilah wronged Samson. If he were arrested, owing to Irene's abduction, he would demand to be confronted with von Kerber, would ask that she, too, should be arraigned with the Austrian, and put forward such an indisputable plea that, whatever the outcome for the Italian, her English friends must recoil from her with indignation. And there was worse in store. Mr. Fenshawe's generosity might provide the means of returning to Europe, but she would go back discredited, a mere adventuress, while the publicity attached to the yacht's errand could hardly fail to bring her name into fatal notoriety. In a word, social ruin stared her in the face, and the prospect was so unpleasing that her despairing glance turned more than once towards a dressing-case containing drugs whose labels spelt oblivion.

Then came the Arab, with news of Irene's return, and, like any desperate gamester who ventures the last shreds of a wasted capital on some almost impossible chance, she determined to fight Alfieri to the end.

It was not a thing to be done in cold blood. Unarmed men have saved their lives by boldly attacking lions, but that is no argument in favor of an unarmed man going out of his way to search for the king of beasts. And the measure of Alfieri's hate was supplied by his daring attempt to capture her. She shuddered to think of the result had he been successful, yet she nerved herself now to out-maneuver him. Of course, there were some slight elements in her favor. The blunder which had placed her enemy at loggerheads with the authorities gave her a momentary advantage. The man's lust for vengeance might, indeed, sweep aside her attack, but she must risk that. Had fate been kinder, Mrs. Haxton was cast in the mold that produces notable women. She knew when to unite boldness with calculation; she would always elect to die fighting rather than cower without a blow; and she would never believe a cause lost while there was a man to be wheedled.

The Somali crew ferried her swiftly towards the landing-stage, and she bade Abdullah render a full account of the rescue.

"You speak of a boat," she commented, with a puzzled air. "Did you see the occupants?"

"No, madame. We heard some shouting by Italians. That is all."

"A boat!" she said, deep in thought. "That seems to suggest that I was to be brought back to the town. The hired carriage and the long drive into the country were intended to throw dust in the eyes of those who might endeavor to find me."

"Or to a ship," suggested Abdullah. "Had they a dhow in readiness? Perhaps, by this time, they may have slipped away to sea under cover of the darkness."

Mrs. Haxton laughed, but her mirth had not its wonted musical cadence.

"No," she said, "that is not likely. Grand Dieu, if only it were! Now, listen, and do exactly as I bid you. Somewhere in Massowah, probably in one of the small restaurants, you will find a man named Giuseppe Alfieri. You must inquire at every cafe and boarding house in the main street—there are not many. You cannot mistake him. You met him once at Assouan, and you may recall his appearance—he is tall and thin, with a lean, sallow face, clean shaven. He has long, black hair and his eyes are large and deeply set. When you find him, you will say that I wish to see him. He will be surprised, and talk big, but he will surely question you. Make no secret of the fact that you are in my confidence. Tell him I offer a truce, that I am in a position to make terms. He may bluster, and boast, perhaps, that I am on my knees. Well, admit it, and remind him that where I fail, he, at least, has no chance of success. Do you understand?' It is a question as between money and revenge. Alfieri is something of a fool. If the bait be tempting enough he will swallow it, and not for the first time."

Abdullah nodded with complete comprehension of her under-thought. The Italian had been tricked once. It might be possible to trick him again.

"If he agrees, Madame, when is he to meet you?"

"To-morrow morning, at eleven o'clock, at the hotel."

"But this other affair has set the bazaar in an uproar. One cannot carry off young English ladies so easily. Monsieur Alfieri may be a prisoner."

"No such luck," said Mrs. Haxton bitterly. "You are not acquainted with the twists and turns of events, Abdullah. That which was simple at Assouan has become complex here. Alfieri has inflamed the mind of some high official at Rome, or he never could have persuaded the Governor to go to such lengths as to arrest Fenshawe Effendi, not to speak of Monsieur le Baron. No, this pig of a Governor has a Minister behind him. He may threaten, but Alfieri is safe."

"Nevertheless, he may be hidden."

"That will suit me equally well. Zut! Abdullah, you are not so quick as usual to-night."

"Pardon, Madame, you have told me what I am to do, but you have said no words as to yourself, yet behold, we shall be on shore in a few minutes."

"I? I am going to the fort. I have one card to play with his Excellency. Pray to your Prophet, Abdullah, that it may succeed."

The Arab bowed silently. It might be that he stood to win, no matter who lost, in this war of intrigue.

"Do I see you again to-night, Madame?" he asked, as the boat drew alongside the jetty.

"I think not. Come with me until I obtain an alabeeyah. Then, to your search, and report to me early to-morrow."

They soon found an alabeeyah, one of the small open carriages made popular in Egypt by the French, and Mrs. Haxton was driven towards the fort. The Arab began his quest for Giuseppe Alfieri, but found him not, for the most convincing reason that Alfieri was then seated in the Governor's library, smoking the Governor's cigarettes, and drinking the Governor's best Capri.

His Excellency had just returned from the hotel. He, too, had deferred to the morning a tactful explanation that pressure of business had prevented the despatch of Mr. Fenshawe's cablegrams that night. But tact was not his most obvious gift. Though he hoped to mollify the irate yacht-owner with soft words, he did not spare Alfieri now.

"The madness of it!" he cried. "You say it was a mistake. That is the plea of a stupid child. The affair would have been just as awkward if you had carried off the Signora Haxton. She is a British subject. In two days the newspapers of Europe would magnify the incident into an international dispute, and, with Abyssinia always ready to fan the flame—"

"Believe me, Excellency, the Signora herself would have written that she had gone away of her own free will," broke in the other.

"I doubt it very much. Her friends could not fail to think that she was writing under compulsion. I tell you, idiot that you are, you have prejudiced your own case, made difficulties where they did not exist. If your sworn statements are true—"

"They are true, true as death," vociferated Alfieri.

"Ebbene! Why, then, strengthen your enemies by giving them just cause for complaint?"

"If only you knew what I have suffered through that woman, Excellency!" came the angry cry.

"Oh, blame the woman, of course," said the Governor, with the fine scorn of a man who has married a meek wife. "I lose patience with these transports. If a woman preferred another to me I would dance at her wedding."

"You would not dance if she had used all the arts of treachery to rob you of your fortune."

"I flatter myself I would resist the tricks of any siren who was merely anxious to delude me. But this is beside the question. These English suspect you of planning the outrage. Frankly, I cannot see my way to meet the inquiry which must be made, sooner or later. Perhaps the old man, Fenshawe, may consent to tone down his messages to-morrow. If he refuses, and sails to Aden, the very cables will fuse under the storm of remonstrance from Rome. I may be recalled. That pig, Festiano, will be appointed in my place. The more I consider your imbecility the less am I inclined to put faith in anything you have said. How do I know that your Greek was not an addle-headed ass like yourself? Corpo di Dio! His treasure of Saba may be a piece of moon-madness akin to this tragi-comic plot of yours."

"I would have bent her to my will. I could make her go to this Austrian dog and tell him begone. I could force her to confess to the Englishman that she had deceived him."

"Saetta! I am out of temper with you," growled the Governor, lighting a cigarette and smoking furiously.

He was fond of plain speaking, this temporary ruler of Erythrea. The sudden death of a Governor appointed from Rome had given him his chance. He might be superseded at any moment by some carpetbagger with political influence, and it went against the grain that the private feuds of people whose quarrels did not interest him in the least should be able to wreck his career. Alfieri came to him with good credentials. If the man's story was borne out by facts, not only would Italy receive a handsome sum from a colony which had hitherto been a drain on her resources, but he, Marchetti, would reap some share of the credit, not to mention the bonus promised for his assistance. His instructions from headquarters were clear. He had acted within his rights in arresting von Kerber and detaining Mr. Fenshawe until the latter gave up an undertaking to land on Italian territory without permission. That he had decided to release the Englishman unconditionally was a further tribute to his good judgment. Having caged the hawk there was no harm in freeing the pigeon. But Alfieri's passionate and ill-advised, attempt to abduct Mrs. Haxton had changed the whole aspect of affairs. No wonder the stout and pompous little man fumed and fretted in vain, endeavor to climb out of this unexpected pit.

Alfieri looked at his restless companion in moody silence. In aspect, he was the exact opposite to the podgy Governor. Slender, and loosely built, he had the large, sunken eyes of a dreamer, the narrow forehead of the self-opinionated, the delicate nostrils and mobile mouth of the neurotic temperament. It was easy to see that such a man would brood over an injury, real or imagined, till he had lashed himself into a tempest of wrath. His emotions could know no mean. From sullen despair he could rebound to the most extravagant optimism. That very day he had rushed away from the painstaking details of a semi-scientific expedition in order to—gratify a Sicilian impulse which called for the ruthless settlement of an old score.

Even now, the sense of failure rankled deeper than the contemptuous anger of his fellow-countryman; but the practical-minded Governor had no intent to leave matters where they stood.

"It seems to me," he said, turning suddenly on Alfieri, after gazing out across the harbor and watching the twinkling lights on the Aphrodite, "it seems to me that the best thing we can do now is to arrange a compromise. It is not too late. We must board the Englishman's yacht early in the morning—"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. A servant entered. There was a lady to see his Excellency. By Bacchus, a lady, at that hour, nearly ten o'clock! Who was she, and what did she want? He could not be bothered—

Then he read the name on the card brought by the man, and whistled softly, lest perchance this latest phase of an electrical situation should demand words not in the repertory of excellencies.

"Wait outside for one moment," he said. Alfieri, alive to Signor Marchetti's suppressed excitement, wondered who the visitor could be. The governor examined the card again. He gave his companion a rather dreary smile.

"You are but a tinfoil conspirator, after all, my friend," said he. "Here is a woman who despises you."

Alfieri sprang to his feet with an oath.

"She has not dared!" he cried.

"Calm yourself, I pray you. The Signora Haxton has come to pay a visit —that is all. The hour is late, but, from what you have told me, she is not likely to be troubled by a consideration of that kind. Now, Signor Alfieri, I am going to receive her. Do not forget that I am the Chief magistrate of Massowah. It is probable that, through her instrumentality, I may be able to extricate both myself and you from the predicament into which your folly has plunged us. And I warn you that any display of temper will be fatal. Let us go slowly and we may go far."

Alfieri, all a-quiver with uncontrollable emotion, fixed his glowing eyes on the door when the servant returned with Mrs. Haxton. She entered, with the graceful ease of one accustomed to meet greater dignitaries than the head of a small Italian colony. Signor Marchetti advanced a few paces. Where a lady was concerned he could be courteous enough, his abruptness being a specially cultivated mannerism intended to impress natives with a sense of his importance. But, beneath the skin of office, he was Italian to the core, and he promised himself a fine scenic effect when the Englishwoman's glance fell on the other occupant of the room.

But Mrs. Haxton had nerved herself to play for a high stake. Though she shrank back a little and caught her breath when she saw Alfieri, there was a restraint in her attitude which might have surprised a more astute person than Governor Marchetti. Her eyes contracted somewhat, her lips tightened, a hand clutched at the folds of a cloak thrown loosely over her shoulders. Marchetti paid heed to these things, and interpreted them as evidences of timidity. A man accustomed to wield a rapier rather than a cudgel would not have made that initial error. Alfieri's presence changed the whole situation, and Mrs. Haxton, in whom the stage had lost a great actress, instantly bent her wits to deal with the new set of circumstances thus created.