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 drunken
Frank."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Funny thing," growled Stump, "but them's Mrs. Haxton's very words as I helped her up the ship's ladder. Hello! Where's the fire? Unless I'm much mistaken, young feller, there's a first-class row goin' on outside our bloomin' 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 the lingua franca of the stable, and he was soon allowed to stroke the arched neck and twine his fingers in the thick yellow mane.

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

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

"Quite sure."

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

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

"Where are we going?" he inquired.

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

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

"Easily, monsieur. This is the place."

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

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

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

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

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

This formula made it certain that the group near the fire were Mahomedans. "Es-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?"