WE MEET AGAIN

The place in which George found himself so roughly thrust was pitch dark. He vainly turned from side to side to discover, if possible, what his surroundings were, but he could see nothing. The ominous "clumping" of the bars as the rebel soldiers put them in place, warned him that they had no idea of giving him any opportunity of escape, and he must be content for a while at least to remain where he was and make the best of things. He listened for the sound of retreating footsteps, but, hearing none, concluded that the two men had been told off to mount guard over him, thus making his captivity doubly secure.

Waiting for a moment or two, to get accustomed to the darkness, he proceeded to feel his way about, in the hopes of finding something on which to sit and rest; but, after hesitatingly moving round the walls, he came to the conclusion that the hut was bare of all furniture, and if he wished for rest he must sit on the ground. Being somewhat philosophical, this he did, leaning his back against the wall, and gave himself up to formulating a plan of campaign. This was no easy matter; he had but the vaguest ideas what his fate was to be, and therefore it was impossible to know what was the best line of action to adopt.

The one thing he feared was that there was no sufficiently powerful rebel here to protect him from the barbarity of the half-wild soldiery; and if this were so, his life, when daylight came, would not be worth twopence. If Mark Arden happened to be in command he might possibly attempt to save him for a worse fate than even the one he had already pictured; of the two, he would sooner face the soldiers, for then his end would be swift, and he could at least face it like a man.

His thoughts brought him so little comfort, so little hope, that at last he put them from him altogether, and, in spite of all his danger, in spite of all this discomfort, he curled himself up and slept the sound refreshing sleep of a tired man. Once more he was back in Germany, once more amongst the students of the University; the Debating Society was in full swing, and he was again enacting that little drama in the club-rooms. Somehow Arabi was mixed up with it all, encouraging him to help his friend from the bullying Landauer, smiling brightly on him as he uttered the scathing words preceding his challenge. Suddenly in the midst of it all there came a terrific peal of thunder, and he awoke with a start, to hear the bars being removed from his prison-door and to see the bright sunlight streaming in through cracks in both roof and wall of the cranky hut.

He rubbed his eyes for a moment to make sure he was not still dreaming, then, as the door was flung open and the dirty face of a ragged, half-dressed soldier appeared, he recollected everything, and sprang to his feet in anticipation of rough treatment.

Critically scanning the man who stood before him, George could not be certain if it was the same fellow who had thrust him in there the night before. He was not long left in doubt, for he was addressed in the broken English common to natives used to mixing with Europeans, and George knew at once that this was a fresh jailer.

"The officer will speak with the Englishman," he said with a grin.

"Oh," replied George in the same language, "and what does he want with me? Who is this officer? Why can't he come to me?" he went on in defiant tones.

"You are prisoner, and the officer he not come to prisoners. You are to die soon," was the comforting reply.

"Yes, and who is going to kill me? You?" with fine contempt in his tones, eyeing the insignificant wretch up and down.

"I come not here to talk with the dog of a Christian. If you will not come with me, I must take you, for the Pasha will not wait. Come!"

Helmar burst out into a loud laugh. The thought of this dirty little Egyptian taking him anywhere against his will was too much for him; notwithstanding the exigencies of the situation he resolved to tease him.

"And how do you propose to drag me from here if I do not choose to go?"

The little man's eyes glittered, and his hand rested on a revolver in his belt. He saw that the "dog of a Christian" was laughing at him, and he did not like it.

"My orders are to bring you; if you will not come alive, then——" and he drew his revolver and levelled it at George's head.

Thinking he had gone far enough, and realizing that the wretch was in earnest, George stopped laughing.

"All right, lead the way, I'll go with you. But you might give me something to eat; I haven't touched food since yesterday afternoon and am hungry."

"You not need food much longer," replied the man with a grim smile, as he led the way out into the scorching sunlight.

"Evidently," thought George, "they don't intend to waste time with me. But, by Jupiter! I'll make a fight for it when the time comes!"

The place he was in was a small encampment of mud huts scattered about amongst a scrubbly low bush. A number of rebel soldiers were to be seen in various attitudes of laziness, all smoking or chewing. As George passed along with his guide they eyed him with much disfavour, without moving from their particular position of ease, and if looks could kill, he would never have reached the officer's hut alive.

"What place is this?" he asked, more interested in his surroundings than in his fate. "Is it Kafr Dowar?"

The man shook his head and refused to answer. Not yet satisfied, George tried again.

"How far is this from Alexandria?"

This time the answer came short, sharp, and in deep tones of hatred.

"Too far for the Christian ever to return."

"How these wretches do hate Europeans," thought he, as he trudged along beside the man and began to think more seriously of what was in store for him.

A few yards further on they stopped outside the same hut where they halted the night before. The guard knocked at the door, which was instantly opened, and two soldiers barred the way. George's guard at once explained, and the two men fell back, leaving them free to enter.

The guide led the way. The room was dark, and as far as Helmar could see at first glance, it was as devoid of windows and in almost as ruinous a condition as his prison. He saw in one swift glance an untidy bed, covered with brown blankets, occupying one side of the room, and then his attention was riveted on a man dressed in Egyptian costume writing at a table in the centre of the apartment. He seemed to take no notice of their approach, so absorbed was he in his work; not a movement escaped him beyond the manipulation of his pen, which was decidedly rapid, George thought, for an "uncivilized savage."

The prisoner had time to note the long sword hanging at the man's side, and also the sinister projecting butt of a revolver from his belt, but beyond this there was nothing to mark him out as anything much above the rest of the rebels he had seen.

George and his guide halted in front of the table, and the officer with a movement of irritation threw down his pen and looked up. There was a momentary silence, and the two men exchanged glances of mutual defiance and hatred. Then, with an unpleasant smiling curl of the lip, the latter said—

"So, George Helmar, we meet again!"

It was Mark Arden. Helmar had not been altogether unprepared for this meeting. Mark, he knew, was in the neighbourhood, but he had not been certain he was to be the arbitrator of his fate. He thought swiftly, and quickly realized that no feelings of similar nationality and education would help to save him from this villain's vengeance. He therefore determined to put on the boldest face possible, and meet defiance with defiance, hatred with contempt, and let his captor understand that he did not care a jot for anything that he could do to him.

"You escaped me before, but I thought it would not be long before I should again get hold of you. That was a smart trick you served me at Port Said, and I haven't forgotten it."

George smiled, as he thought how easily he had outwitted this man before, and wondered if there were no possibility of repeating the operation. Mark seemed to read his thoughts.

"No, my friend, it will not happen again; I will see to that. I have you more fully in my power now, and I can assure you I have no intention of letting you again slip through my fingers."

"That remains to be seen," replied George, coolly. "But you haven't paid me that money yet, and I shall be glad of it just now."

This was only said out of bravado, and had its effect. Mark could not refrain from smiling as he replied—

"What, still harping on the old theme? Ah, well, you always were a cool fellow, but I'm afraid your coolness will avail you little now. I gave you a chance at Port Said, for old acquaintance' sake, a chance which you wantonly threw away in a manner little calculated to enlist my sympathy; and now, nothing I can do will save you," and he grinned fiendishly at the irony of his own words.

George was not in the least taken in by them; he knew full well that this man would stop at nothing to injure him, so he treated his words with contempt.

"Ah, you do not believe me," Mark went on, observing the look of disdain on George's face.

"But you will soon see. Listen to this," and he read from what he had written on the paper in front of him.

"I am sending down a man captured, by my command, in the act of spying our works here. He is an interpreter to the enemy, and therefore a man to be feared. I refrain from sentencing him here, as a spy is always a useful subject for interrogation for the authorities, and if he receives his punishment here, of course that will all be lost."

"That is my dispatch to Arabi, Helmar, as far as you are concerned. Doubtless you can draw your own conclusions as to its meaning."

"Yes," replied George, "I can. It means that you are asking to have me shot, probably tortured first to extract information from me which I do not possess. Bah! you are a cowardly hound!"

"Exactly. For the sake of Auld Lang Syne," he replied coldly. "I do not care to have your execution on my hands. But I have no intention of letting you escape. Now you understand what I meant when I said that nothing could save you."

As he finished speaking, he again bent over his writing. George watched him as his pen flew rapidly over the paper; he had nothing that he cared to say to such a despicable hound. He was simply raging with indignation at the traitor, and his fingers twitched longingly to get to the man's throat. However, he restrained himself, and waited for anything further that he had to say. Presently he looked up.

"Well, is there anything I can still do for you?" he asked, in a sneering tone. "Although your fate has been decided, and I know that in less than a week you will be dead, I do not wish to deny you any comfort that my camp can provide."

His words came short and sharp, and their tone was in no wise calculated to bring any relief to George's pent-up feelings, but rather aggravated them.

"If you have finished all you have to say," he said sternly, "I shall be glad to return to my prison."

Arden laughed coarsely at Helmar's indifference, and yet, while the smile was still on his lips, a look of anxiety came into his eyes as the calm demeanour of his former friend struck a latent chord of fear in his black heart. It passed, however, as quickly as it came, and angry that even for one moment he should have feared this man, he burst on him with a torrent of invective.

"Leave me at once," he cried, pointing to the door; "go back to your kennel, you cur! If you stay here another minute I shall forget that I said I would not be responsible for your sentence! Here, guards, seize him and take him away!" He paused for a moment as the two soldiers obeyed, and then in cooler tones gave one parting shot. "When next we meet, Helmar, I shall pay my debts!"

"When next we meet, you can have no choice: you shall pay them in full," rejoined Helmar quietly, as the guards marched him off.

George breathed more freely when he found himself once more out in the brilliant sunlight. The atmosphere of that house had to him been unbearable, the presence of the villain Arden had taxed his feelings and temper to their utmost, and it was with a sense of intense relief that he surveyed again the mud huts and the lazy soldiers outside.

The bright, hot sun, the fresh, sweet air quickly restored his mental balance, and he glanced at the many faces of the men lying about as he slowly sauntered, under the escort of his guards, towards his prison. He had not gone many paces when his attention was attracted towards a man who, just as he came abreast of where he was lying, turned over and grabbed at the air with his hand as though to catch some flying insect. The fellow's action was so out of keeping with the laziness of his attitude that Helmar glanced more keenly at him, and was astonished to see him looking hard at him. Immediately it flashed across his mind that he had seen the man before, but where he could not say. However, the recognition seemed mutual, for as the soldier lay back again, there was an unmistakable smile on his face, and Helmar went on towards his hut wondering.

As soon as he arrived there, George stepped in and the door was closed upon him. While he had been away an aperture in the wall had been uncovered, and the miserable room was well lit up. He walked over to the opening and found that it was a small window, or rather square hole in the wall evidently used for that purpose. Carefully set in the centre of the floor was some rough food and a pitcher of water, and as he gazed at it, he thought that, uninviting as it looked, he could have done with quite double the quantity; however, satisfied that they did not intend to starve him, he fell to with a keen relish, and felt all the better when he had finished.

Notwithstanding the prospect of immediate death, he was in no wise disturbed, and, as he leaned back against the wall after his repast was finished, his mind centred on the familiar face he had just seen, and he wondered again and again where he had seen it before.

With tantalizing persistency the recollection stuck to him, and, equally tantalizingly, he was unable to recall his previous acquaintance with it. At last his thoughts began to drift, and he reviewed the events of his life since he had landed in Egypt.

An hour passed in this way, when suddenly he started up with an exclamation.

"Of course, what a fool I am!" he muttered. "He is the mate of Naoum's dahabÎeh. I remember distinctly now. I wonder how he got here; he seemed a decent sort of nigger, too! I wonder if he were forced into Arabi's service against his will? I must find out; if so, he may be of use to me." Joy came into his heart, and he laughed aloud.

He already began to picture himself fooling Arden for the second time, although how was not quite plain even to himself. Still, as a drowning man will cling to a straw, George grasped at this one gleam of hope, and it brought him a peace of mind that he had not felt since he was captured the night before.

The day dragged wearily on. At short intervals his guards would look in to see that he was not attempting to escape, and, satisfied with their inspection, would prop themselves in a sitting posture outside the door against the wall, and to all appearance sleep.

Towards sundown food was again brought to him, and at the same time his guard was changed. While he was yet eating his unsavoury meal one of the new men entered—it was the man he had recognized.

Glancing furtively at his fellow-guard outside, he advanced to the centre of the room, and with a smile that displayed a row of brilliant teeth, said—

"You remember, eh, de dahabÎeh?"

Helmar glanced up with a smile.

"Yes, you helped us to beat off the rebels, I remember. I saw you this morning. But how came you here?"

For reply, the man put his finger to his lips and glanced towards the door; then, as if expecting a spy, stepped over to the window and looked out. Satisfied with his inspection, he came back, and, squatting himself down on the floor, looked for a moment at his prisoner.

"I come because I cannot stay," he replied in fairly good French. "They come to de dahabÎeh—Arabi's men—and they say I must go with them, so I am here, but I not like."

"Ah, I see, you were pressed into the service," said Helmar, "and you are here against your will."

The man nodded, then again glancing suspiciously round, said—

"But you, they kill you—Arabi shoot you when you get to Damanhour."

"I'm afraid that is their idea," replied George, with a rueful face, "unless I can escape, and that doesn't seem very likely."

"Naoum is at Damanhour," said the man thoughtfully. "If he know you here, he no let them kill you. You go from here at sunrise to-morrow, I am to be one of your guard."

George was on the alert in an instant. He could see that this man wanted to help him if he could only find a way. Apparently the fellow was not very resourceful, so he determined that he must suggest something himself.

"You say that Naoum is at Damanhour, and you are to be one of my escort—well, look here. Do you think you could manage to give him a note from me when we arrive? He will pay you well."

"Me want no pay. Naoum is a good master, and I am his servant. I do all you want. Naoum knows his servant. I come again at dark, and you have your letter written, and I take it."

Without waiting for anything further, the man sprang to his feet and joined his companion outside. There was such an air of sincerity about the fellow that Helmar at once felt he could trust him, so without hesitation he set about writing the note. He found a pencil in his pocket, and using the inside of an envelope, gave a brief outline of what had befallen him, addressed it to Naoum, and then set himself to await the coming of his guard. Just as it was getting dark, the fellow again entered the prison, and without a word, took the note and departed. As soon as he had gone, George stretched himself out on the rough, sandy floor, and prepared to take as good a night's rest as possible. He felt convinced in his own mind that the means of escape had been found, and was now content to wait the outcome without apprehension. It was indeed a relief to him that he had found a friend in this hornet's nest of cut-throats, and he hoped sincerely that the man's honest intentions might not miscarry.

With his mind still dwelling on thoughts such as these he fell asleep, and, rough and hard as was his couch, his sleep was calm and peaceful; as the other guard looked in and listened to his regular breathing, his conscience was at rest when, later on, he followed his prisoner's example.