CHAPTER XX—THE FLIGHT“Too late!” groaned the professor, almost collapsing. “I feared it!”“Thank goodness Nadia got out of the trap!” muttered Buckhart.“If you do nod escape now id vas der death of Abraham!” groaned the frightened Jew.Dick sprang past Assouan and reached the door. He looked out and then turned.“What do you mean?” he demanded. “There is no one here.”“He is below,” said the black man. “Be quick! There is still a small chance for you.”“Come on, then!” exclaimed Brad.But Dick saw the old professor had sunk down weakly on the couch, and he leaped to the side of Zenas.“Come, professor!” he breathed, grasping the hand of the unnerved man.“Go!” gasped the old pedagogue weakly. “Save yourself, if you can. Leave me. My strength is gone. God bless you, Richard! If I am beheaded by these fanatics, tell my wife—tell the boys——”In spite of Professor Gunn’s lack of nerve, in spite of the spells of trepidation which seized him, in spite of his many weaknesses, the old man had won a warm corner in Dick Merriwell’s heart, and Dick was not the boy to desert in time of peril any one for whom he had the slightest regard.“I’ll not tell them anything!” he said grimly. “If you do not brace up and attempt to escape, I’ll remain here with you, and you know what that means. You may not be harmed, for you were not present when Hafsa Pasha was slain; but as surely as I fall into the hands of the sultan’s officers, there will be very little show for me. Unless you brace up now, you may destroy me.”Dick spoke in this manner thinking it might be the best way to arouse the old man, and he made no mistake.“I—I—I——” stammered the professor.Brad urged them to hasten.Suddenly Dick picked the professor up by main strength and placed him on his feet. Supporting the old man, he hurried him toward the door.Assouan had grown impatient and seemed ready to dart away. His eyes were rolling, showing the whites in a manner that betokened the man’s nervousness and increasing fear. He urged them not to waste another moment.Abraham was left praying in the room.“Lead on,” said Dick.Suddenly Professor Gunn displayed an astonishing burst of energy. He broke from Dick and ran to Assouan, imploring the messenger of the sheik to make all haste.Down the stairs sprang Assouan, and what seemed to be a trembling old beggar kept close at his heels. Buckhart came next, with Dick bringing up the rear.At the foot of the stairs suddenly appeared a Turkish officer with a drawn sword. He did not attempt to stop Assouan, but lifted his sword and placed the point against the breast of the disguised professor, commanding him to halt.At the same instant, it seemed, a human figure fairly shot over the head and shoulders of Buckhart, over the professor, and landed with full force on the officer, hurling the latter to the floor.It was Dick Merriwell, who had acted with lightning-like swiftness.The Turk was knocked senseless, and lay stretched on the floor at the foot of the stairs, his sword beneath him.Dick leaped up.“Come on, professor!” he hissed. “Come on, Brad!”He caught hold of Gunn once more, and away they went, finding it no simple matter to keep track of the black man, who was now fleeing for his own life.Other inmates of the hotel, all in great alarm, got in their way, but were thrust aside. They rushed through several rooms. Twice some one tried to stop them. They stumbled down some dark steps. Doors were flung open before them and slammed behind them. Some curtains were thrust aside, disclosing a dark passage. Into this they plunged. It brought them quickly to other rooms and other doors that yielded to the hand of the black leader. They were bewildered, for none save Assouan knew whither they were going. Their wild rush hither and thither seemed aimless. At last, in a storeroom, where there were boxes and bales and casks, the sheik’s messenger thrust a bale aside and seized an iron ring that seemed set in the floor. With a surge, he lifted a trapdoor, beneath which was a place of utter darkness.“Down!” he sibilated, pointing into the darkness. “Down, and wait for me to follow!”Brad dropped through recklessly and disappeared. The professor followed, breathing a prayer.Behind them there were cries and the sound of many feet. Their flight had attracted attention. Several persons were coming, and they might be Turkish officers.Dick slipped through the trap and dropped.He fell on his hands and knees, and instantly realized that, were he to stand erect, his head and shoulders would protrude through the square opening above.He felt one of his companions at his side. He looked up and saw the muscular black man again moving the bale. Assouan sat with his legs dangling through the opening. The trapdoor was leaning against his shoulder. He reached over, grasped the bale and pulled it against the door. Then, swiftly, yet with deliberation, he slid down through the trap, permitting the door to close, with the tipped bale settling over it.In the darkness, beneath, the four fugitives crouched on the bare ground, hearing above their heads the feet of their pursuers.After a time the tread of feet and murmur of voices ceased. Evidently their pursuers had departed baffled.Then Assouan whispered directions to them, and, one after the other, the black man leading, they crawled many feet along what seemed to be a trenchlike passage beneath the building.Finally Assouan paused. He rose, and they saw a gleam of light that came faintly through another square opening. This dim light revealed their conductor opening another trapdoor by lifting it. He stood erect, and then sprang lightly up through the opening.“Oh, Richard!” whispered Professor Gunn; “this is a terrible experience! If we escape with our lives, I shall always think of this day with unspeakable horror.”Assouan was stooping over the opening, with his hands outstretched. He directed them to rise and permit him to assist them.Dick urged the professor onward. The black man grasped the hands of the old pedagogue and lifted him through the trap.Buckhart needed no assistance, nor did Dick, who swiftly followed him.Assouan closed the trapdoor behind him.“Wherever are we?” inquired the Texan.The black man explained that they were in a building that stood on the opposite side of a narrow street at the back of the German hotel.They had actually crept through a passage that led beneath this street.This passage had been made years before, by the former owner of the hotel, who feared a repetition of the massacre of 1860, and wished a means of escaping from the building in case it should be assailed by a mob. It was doubtful if the present proprietor knew of the existence of the passage.The old sheik, Ras al Had, had chanced by accident to discover the passage while storing goods in the building into which it led from the hotel. At the present time this building was used as a storehouse. The room in which they found themselves was poorly lighted. They were again amid boxes and bales of goods.Outside, between them and the hotel, they heard the sound of many voices. The mob was there, but the soldiers were still holding the crowd in check.“My goodness!” murmured Professor Gunn. “It seems to me that we’re still in a nasty scrape. We haven’t escaped.”Without a word, the black man led the way to another part of the building. A heavy door faced them in one dim corner. This door Assouan knew how to open, but he paused and listened some moments before unfastening it.“When the door is opened,” he finally said, “step quickly across and into a doorway directly opposite.”They were ready. The door was opened, and, without loss of time, they crossed a space of about three feet between the two buildings and entered the doorway spoken of by Assouan.The black man followed them as soon as he had closed the door after leaving the storehouse. They found they had stepped into a room where, sitting cross-legged on the floor, an old sandal maker was at work. To their surprise, this old man, after looking at them curiously, kept on about his labor without speaking a word.Assouan explained that the man was a mute.The black man made some signs, which were answered by a single signal from the sandal maker. Then Assouan again instructed his disguised companions to follow him, pushed aside a curtain from a low doorway, stooped and passed into an adjoining room.This room was on the front of the house. The door to the street stood wide open. A middle-aged Syrian woman was working at a rude loom, weaving some sort of goods. Two girls, one about thirteen and the other eight or nine, were sorting and preparing the strands used by the woman in her work.The woman glanced at Assouan, but seemed to give none of the others a look. Dick fancied an expression of alarm swept over her face, but she continued stolidly and steadily about her work.The children stared at them until the woman spoke in a low tone of command, seeming to rebuke them for their rudeness, after which they resumed the work of sorting and preparing the strands.Assouan tossed a piece of silver before the woman, but she kept at her work, without seeming to notice it. Dick would have dropped more money, but the black man restrained him with a gesture and a shake of the head. They passed out upon the street, one at a time.Assouan strode in advance. Professor Gunn, looking like a ragged old Armenian, doddered along behind him. Buckhart, as a respectable young Greek, kept by himself, taking the opposite side of the street. Dick imitated the shiftless, shuffling walk of the young vagabonds of the city, thus making his assumed character seem real, and followed them all at a little distance.The street was well filled—almost crowded—with excited people, who were talking of the murder of the Pasha and the belief that those concerned in the murder were trapped in the German hotel.Although the people were speaking in various languages, Dick understood something of what was being said, and he realized that he was surrounded by Moslems.Although Abraham had performed his work well, he had made a mistake in disguising the old professor as an Armenian. The Turks were aroused. Although they were stirred up against foreigners, their hatred for the Armenians was liable to burst forth any moment.Thus it happened that a group of young men suddenly stopped the disguised professor and began hustling him about.The old man said not a word, for he knew he would betray himself if he opened his mouth.Brad Buckhart paused and watched proceedings, his hands clenched and his aspect indicating that he was on the verge of pitching in and assisting Zenas.Dick made a warning gesture, which Brad saw. He also paused, but he looked on as if quite indifferent to what was taking place.Assouan had disappeared. Fully understanding the terrible peril his companions were in, he had no desire to become involved, and, therefore, he had hastened on.Our friends were left to their fate in the streets of Damascus.
CHAPTER XX—THE FLIGHT“Too late!” groaned the professor, almost collapsing. “I feared it!”“Thank goodness Nadia got out of the trap!” muttered Buckhart.“If you do nod escape now id vas der death of Abraham!” groaned the frightened Jew.Dick sprang past Assouan and reached the door. He looked out and then turned.“What do you mean?” he demanded. “There is no one here.”“He is below,” said the black man. “Be quick! There is still a small chance for you.”“Come on, then!” exclaimed Brad.But Dick saw the old professor had sunk down weakly on the couch, and he leaped to the side of Zenas.“Come, professor!” he breathed, grasping the hand of the unnerved man.“Go!” gasped the old pedagogue weakly. “Save yourself, if you can. Leave me. My strength is gone. God bless you, Richard! If I am beheaded by these fanatics, tell my wife—tell the boys——”In spite of Professor Gunn’s lack of nerve, in spite of the spells of trepidation which seized him, in spite of his many weaknesses, the old man had won a warm corner in Dick Merriwell’s heart, and Dick was not the boy to desert in time of peril any one for whom he had the slightest regard.“I’ll not tell them anything!” he said grimly. “If you do not brace up and attempt to escape, I’ll remain here with you, and you know what that means. You may not be harmed, for you were not present when Hafsa Pasha was slain; but as surely as I fall into the hands of the sultan’s officers, there will be very little show for me. Unless you brace up now, you may destroy me.”Dick spoke in this manner thinking it might be the best way to arouse the old man, and he made no mistake.“I—I—I——” stammered the professor.Brad urged them to hasten.Suddenly Dick picked the professor up by main strength and placed him on his feet. Supporting the old man, he hurried him toward the door.Assouan had grown impatient and seemed ready to dart away. His eyes were rolling, showing the whites in a manner that betokened the man’s nervousness and increasing fear. He urged them not to waste another moment.Abraham was left praying in the room.“Lead on,” said Dick.Suddenly Professor Gunn displayed an astonishing burst of energy. He broke from Dick and ran to Assouan, imploring the messenger of the sheik to make all haste.Down the stairs sprang Assouan, and what seemed to be a trembling old beggar kept close at his heels. Buckhart came next, with Dick bringing up the rear.At the foot of the stairs suddenly appeared a Turkish officer with a drawn sword. He did not attempt to stop Assouan, but lifted his sword and placed the point against the breast of the disguised professor, commanding him to halt.At the same instant, it seemed, a human figure fairly shot over the head and shoulders of Buckhart, over the professor, and landed with full force on the officer, hurling the latter to the floor.It was Dick Merriwell, who had acted with lightning-like swiftness.The Turk was knocked senseless, and lay stretched on the floor at the foot of the stairs, his sword beneath him.Dick leaped up.“Come on, professor!” he hissed. “Come on, Brad!”He caught hold of Gunn once more, and away they went, finding it no simple matter to keep track of the black man, who was now fleeing for his own life.Other inmates of the hotel, all in great alarm, got in their way, but were thrust aside. They rushed through several rooms. Twice some one tried to stop them. They stumbled down some dark steps. Doors were flung open before them and slammed behind them. Some curtains were thrust aside, disclosing a dark passage. Into this they plunged. It brought them quickly to other rooms and other doors that yielded to the hand of the black leader. They were bewildered, for none save Assouan knew whither they were going. Their wild rush hither and thither seemed aimless. At last, in a storeroom, where there were boxes and bales and casks, the sheik’s messenger thrust a bale aside and seized an iron ring that seemed set in the floor. With a surge, he lifted a trapdoor, beneath which was a place of utter darkness.“Down!” he sibilated, pointing into the darkness. “Down, and wait for me to follow!”Brad dropped through recklessly and disappeared. The professor followed, breathing a prayer.Behind them there were cries and the sound of many feet. Their flight had attracted attention. Several persons were coming, and they might be Turkish officers.Dick slipped through the trap and dropped.He fell on his hands and knees, and instantly realized that, were he to stand erect, his head and shoulders would protrude through the square opening above.He felt one of his companions at his side. He looked up and saw the muscular black man again moving the bale. Assouan sat with his legs dangling through the opening. The trapdoor was leaning against his shoulder. He reached over, grasped the bale and pulled it against the door. Then, swiftly, yet with deliberation, he slid down through the trap, permitting the door to close, with the tipped bale settling over it.In the darkness, beneath, the four fugitives crouched on the bare ground, hearing above their heads the feet of their pursuers.After a time the tread of feet and murmur of voices ceased. Evidently their pursuers had departed baffled.Then Assouan whispered directions to them, and, one after the other, the black man leading, they crawled many feet along what seemed to be a trenchlike passage beneath the building.Finally Assouan paused. He rose, and they saw a gleam of light that came faintly through another square opening. This dim light revealed their conductor opening another trapdoor by lifting it. He stood erect, and then sprang lightly up through the opening.“Oh, Richard!” whispered Professor Gunn; “this is a terrible experience! If we escape with our lives, I shall always think of this day with unspeakable horror.”Assouan was stooping over the opening, with his hands outstretched. He directed them to rise and permit him to assist them.Dick urged the professor onward. The black man grasped the hands of the old pedagogue and lifted him through the trap.Buckhart needed no assistance, nor did Dick, who swiftly followed him.Assouan closed the trapdoor behind him.“Wherever are we?” inquired the Texan.The black man explained that they were in a building that stood on the opposite side of a narrow street at the back of the German hotel.They had actually crept through a passage that led beneath this street.This passage had been made years before, by the former owner of the hotel, who feared a repetition of the massacre of 1860, and wished a means of escaping from the building in case it should be assailed by a mob. It was doubtful if the present proprietor knew of the existence of the passage.The old sheik, Ras al Had, had chanced by accident to discover the passage while storing goods in the building into which it led from the hotel. At the present time this building was used as a storehouse. The room in which they found themselves was poorly lighted. They were again amid boxes and bales of goods.Outside, between them and the hotel, they heard the sound of many voices. The mob was there, but the soldiers were still holding the crowd in check.“My goodness!” murmured Professor Gunn. “It seems to me that we’re still in a nasty scrape. We haven’t escaped.”Without a word, the black man led the way to another part of the building. A heavy door faced them in one dim corner. This door Assouan knew how to open, but he paused and listened some moments before unfastening it.“When the door is opened,” he finally said, “step quickly across and into a doorway directly opposite.”They were ready. The door was opened, and, without loss of time, they crossed a space of about three feet between the two buildings and entered the doorway spoken of by Assouan.The black man followed them as soon as he had closed the door after leaving the storehouse. They found they had stepped into a room where, sitting cross-legged on the floor, an old sandal maker was at work. To their surprise, this old man, after looking at them curiously, kept on about his labor without speaking a word.Assouan explained that the man was a mute.The black man made some signs, which were answered by a single signal from the sandal maker. Then Assouan again instructed his disguised companions to follow him, pushed aside a curtain from a low doorway, stooped and passed into an adjoining room.This room was on the front of the house. The door to the street stood wide open. A middle-aged Syrian woman was working at a rude loom, weaving some sort of goods. Two girls, one about thirteen and the other eight or nine, were sorting and preparing the strands used by the woman in her work.The woman glanced at Assouan, but seemed to give none of the others a look. Dick fancied an expression of alarm swept over her face, but she continued stolidly and steadily about her work.The children stared at them until the woman spoke in a low tone of command, seeming to rebuke them for their rudeness, after which they resumed the work of sorting and preparing the strands.Assouan tossed a piece of silver before the woman, but she kept at her work, without seeming to notice it. Dick would have dropped more money, but the black man restrained him with a gesture and a shake of the head. They passed out upon the street, one at a time.Assouan strode in advance. Professor Gunn, looking like a ragged old Armenian, doddered along behind him. Buckhart, as a respectable young Greek, kept by himself, taking the opposite side of the street. Dick imitated the shiftless, shuffling walk of the young vagabonds of the city, thus making his assumed character seem real, and followed them all at a little distance.The street was well filled—almost crowded—with excited people, who were talking of the murder of the Pasha and the belief that those concerned in the murder were trapped in the German hotel.Although the people were speaking in various languages, Dick understood something of what was being said, and he realized that he was surrounded by Moslems.Although Abraham had performed his work well, he had made a mistake in disguising the old professor as an Armenian. The Turks were aroused. Although they were stirred up against foreigners, their hatred for the Armenians was liable to burst forth any moment.Thus it happened that a group of young men suddenly stopped the disguised professor and began hustling him about.The old man said not a word, for he knew he would betray himself if he opened his mouth.Brad Buckhart paused and watched proceedings, his hands clenched and his aspect indicating that he was on the verge of pitching in and assisting Zenas.Dick made a warning gesture, which Brad saw. He also paused, but he looked on as if quite indifferent to what was taking place.Assouan had disappeared. Fully understanding the terrible peril his companions were in, he had no desire to become involved, and, therefore, he had hastened on.Our friends were left to their fate in the streets of Damascus.
“Too late!” groaned the professor, almost collapsing. “I feared it!”
“Thank goodness Nadia got out of the trap!” muttered Buckhart.
“If you do nod escape now id vas der death of Abraham!” groaned the frightened Jew.
Dick sprang past Assouan and reached the door. He looked out and then turned.
“What do you mean?” he demanded. “There is no one here.”
“He is below,” said the black man. “Be quick! There is still a small chance for you.”
“Come on, then!” exclaimed Brad.
But Dick saw the old professor had sunk down weakly on the couch, and he leaped to the side of Zenas.
“Come, professor!” he breathed, grasping the hand of the unnerved man.
“Go!” gasped the old pedagogue weakly. “Save yourself, if you can. Leave me. My strength is gone. God bless you, Richard! If I am beheaded by these fanatics, tell my wife—tell the boys——”
In spite of Professor Gunn’s lack of nerve, in spite of the spells of trepidation which seized him, in spite of his many weaknesses, the old man had won a warm corner in Dick Merriwell’s heart, and Dick was not the boy to desert in time of peril any one for whom he had the slightest regard.
“I’ll not tell them anything!” he said grimly. “If you do not brace up and attempt to escape, I’ll remain here with you, and you know what that means. You may not be harmed, for you were not present when Hafsa Pasha was slain; but as surely as I fall into the hands of the sultan’s officers, there will be very little show for me. Unless you brace up now, you may destroy me.”
Dick spoke in this manner thinking it might be the best way to arouse the old man, and he made no mistake.
“I—I—I——” stammered the professor.
Brad urged them to hasten.
Suddenly Dick picked the professor up by main strength and placed him on his feet. Supporting the old man, he hurried him toward the door.
Assouan had grown impatient and seemed ready to dart away. His eyes were rolling, showing the whites in a manner that betokened the man’s nervousness and increasing fear. He urged them not to waste another moment.
Abraham was left praying in the room.
“Lead on,” said Dick.
Suddenly Professor Gunn displayed an astonishing burst of energy. He broke from Dick and ran to Assouan, imploring the messenger of the sheik to make all haste.
Down the stairs sprang Assouan, and what seemed to be a trembling old beggar kept close at his heels. Buckhart came next, with Dick bringing up the rear.
At the foot of the stairs suddenly appeared a Turkish officer with a drawn sword. He did not attempt to stop Assouan, but lifted his sword and placed the point against the breast of the disguised professor, commanding him to halt.
At the same instant, it seemed, a human figure fairly shot over the head and shoulders of Buckhart, over the professor, and landed with full force on the officer, hurling the latter to the floor.
It was Dick Merriwell, who had acted with lightning-like swiftness.
The Turk was knocked senseless, and lay stretched on the floor at the foot of the stairs, his sword beneath him.
Dick leaped up.
“Come on, professor!” he hissed. “Come on, Brad!”
He caught hold of Gunn once more, and away they went, finding it no simple matter to keep track of the black man, who was now fleeing for his own life.
Other inmates of the hotel, all in great alarm, got in their way, but were thrust aside. They rushed through several rooms. Twice some one tried to stop them. They stumbled down some dark steps. Doors were flung open before them and slammed behind them. Some curtains were thrust aside, disclosing a dark passage. Into this they plunged. It brought them quickly to other rooms and other doors that yielded to the hand of the black leader. They were bewildered, for none save Assouan knew whither they were going. Their wild rush hither and thither seemed aimless. At last, in a storeroom, where there were boxes and bales and casks, the sheik’s messenger thrust a bale aside and seized an iron ring that seemed set in the floor. With a surge, he lifted a trapdoor, beneath which was a place of utter darkness.
“Down!” he sibilated, pointing into the darkness. “Down, and wait for me to follow!”
Brad dropped through recklessly and disappeared. The professor followed, breathing a prayer.
Behind them there were cries and the sound of many feet. Their flight had attracted attention. Several persons were coming, and they might be Turkish officers.
Dick slipped through the trap and dropped.
He fell on his hands and knees, and instantly realized that, were he to stand erect, his head and shoulders would protrude through the square opening above.
He felt one of his companions at his side. He looked up and saw the muscular black man again moving the bale. Assouan sat with his legs dangling through the opening. The trapdoor was leaning against his shoulder. He reached over, grasped the bale and pulled it against the door. Then, swiftly, yet with deliberation, he slid down through the trap, permitting the door to close, with the tipped bale settling over it.
In the darkness, beneath, the four fugitives crouched on the bare ground, hearing above their heads the feet of their pursuers.
After a time the tread of feet and murmur of voices ceased. Evidently their pursuers had departed baffled.
Then Assouan whispered directions to them, and, one after the other, the black man leading, they crawled many feet along what seemed to be a trenchlike passage beneath the building.
Finally Assouan paused. He rose, and they saw a gleam of light that came faintly through another square opening. This dim light revealed their conductor opening another trapdoor by lifting it. He stood erect, and then sprang lightly up through the opening.
“Oh, Richard!” whispered Professor Gunn; “this is a terrible experience! If we escape with our lives, I shall always think of this day with unspeakable horror.”
Assouan was stooping over the opening, with his hands outstretched. He directed them to rise and permit him to assist them.
Dick urged the professor onward. The black man grasped the hands of the old pedagogue and lifted him through the trap.
Buckhart needed no assistance, nor did Dick, who swiftly followed him.
Assouan closed the trapdoor behind him.
“Wherever are we?” inquired the Texan.
The black man explained that they were in a building that stood on the opposite side of a narrow street at the back of the German hotel.
They had actually crept through a passage that led beneath this street.
This passage had been made years before, by the former owner of the hotel, who feared a repetition of the massacre of 1860, and wished a means of escaping from the building in case it should be assailed by a mob. It was doubtful if the present proprietor knew of the existence of the passage.
The old sheik, Ras al Had, had chanced by accident to discover the passage while storing goods in the building into which it led from the hotel. At the present time this building was used as a storehouse. The room in which they found themselves was poorly lighted. They were again amid boxes and bales of goods.
Outside, between them and the hotel, they heard the sound of many voices. The mob was there, but the soldiers were still holding the crowd in check.
“My goodness!” murmured Professor Gunn. “It seems to me that we’re still in a nasty scrape. We haven’t escaped.”
Without a word, the black man led the way to another part of the building. A heavy door faced them in one dim corner. This door Assouan knew how to open, but he paused and listened some moments before unfastening it.
“When the door is opened,” he finally said, “step quickly across and into a doorway directly opposite.”
They were ready. The door was opened, and, without loss of time, they crossed a space of about three feet between the two buildings and entered the doorway spoken of by Assouan.
The black man followed them as soon as he had closed the door after leaving the storehouse. They found they had stepped into a room where, sitting cross-legged on the floor, an old sandal maker was at work. To their surprise, this old man, after looking at them curiously, kept on about his labor without speaking a word.
Assouan explained that the man was a mute.
The black man made some signs, which were answered by a single signal from the sandal maker. Then Assouan again instructed his disguised companions to follow him, pushed aside a curtain from a low doorway, stooped and passed into an adjoining room.
This room was on the front of the house. The door to the street stood wide open. A middle-aged Syrian woman was working at a rude loom, weaving some sort of goods. Two girls, one about thirteen and the other eight or nine, were sorting and preparing the strands used by the woman in her work.
The woman glanced at Assouan, but seemed to give none of the others a look. Dick fancied an expression of alarm swept over her face, but she continued stolidly and steadily about her work.
The children stared at them until the woman spoke in a low tone of command, seeming to rebuke them for their rudeness, after which they resumed the work of sorting and preparing the strands.
Assouan tossed a piece of silver before the woman, but she kept at her work, without seeming to notice it. Dick would have dropped more money, but the black man restrained him with a gesture and a shake of the head. They passed out upon the street, one at a time.
Assouan strode in advance. Professor Gunn, looking like a ragged old Armenian, doddered along behind him. Buckhart, as a respectable young Greek, kept by himself, taking the opposite side of the street. Dick imitated the shiftless, shuffling walk of the young vagabonds of the city, thus making his assumed character seem real, and followed them all at a little distance.
The street was well filled—almost crowded—with excited people, who were talking of the murder of the Pasha and the belief that those concerned in the murder were trapped in the German hotel.
Although the people were speaking in various languages, Dick understood something of what was being said, and he realized that he was surrounded by Moslems.
Although Abraham had performed his work well, he had made a mistake in disguising the old professor as an Armenian. The Turks were aroused. Although they were stirred up against foreigners, their hatred for the Armenians was liable to burst forth any moment.
Thus it happened that a group of young men suddenly stopped the disguised professor and began hustling him about.
The old man said not a word, for he knew he would betray himself if he opened his mouth.
Brad Buckhart paused and watched proceedings, his hands clenched and his aspect indicating that he was on the verge of pitching in and assisting Zenas.
Dick made a warning gesture, which Brad saw. He also paused, but he looked on as if quite indifferent to what was taking place.
Assouan had disappeared. Fully understanding the terrible peril his companions were in, he had no desire to become involved, and, therefore, he had hastened on.
Our friends were left to their fate in the streets of Damascus.