"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 theAphroditelying 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 treatmeas 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 murderousfracasamong 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.
Several minor rills of events combined to produce this tempestuous torrent at the door of the Hôtel 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 Salât and the Sunnah unctuously, and performed the genuflections and prostrations of the Rêka 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 drunkenFrank."
"Nay, friend, I speak truly. May I never drink at the White Pond of theProphet 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 akafilastarts 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 theAphroditeby 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' café. 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 thelingua francaof 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-salámu 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?"
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. "ItwasFrench 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 theAphroditein 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 jêtée, 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 ofFrenchified, 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.