is but playing with you as the cat with the mouse. . . . For you are not the only mouse in his trap--oh, no! Not by any means. . . . What are Roumi brains against those of the Arabs, the most wise, learned, subtle and ancient of all the races of the earth? . . . Why, you poor fool, there are other messengers from another Power, here, in the Great Oasis--and our fair-spoken Lord gives them audience daily in their camp. . . ."
I sprang to my feet. . . . Could this scoundrel be speaking the truth. . . . A cold fear settled on my heart. . . . What likelihood was there of my leaving this place alive, if this were true and my own folly and madness had driven the Emir into the arms of these agents of some other Power?
My life was nothing--but what of the fate of Mary Vanbrugh, when my throat was cut? . . . I broke out into a cold perspiration, and the fever left me. . . . My brain grew clearer and began to act more quickly. I smiled derisively and shook an incredulous head.
"And supposing I showed you their camp, Sidi?" sneered the Hadji. "Suppose I gave you the opportunity to see a disguised Roumi and to speak to him?"
"Why--then I should be convinced," I replied, and added--"And that would certainly change my--er--attitude toward you and your proposal. . . . When I have seen these men, and spoken with them--you may visit me again, with advantage to your purse. . . ." I must play this foul-feeding fish on a long line, and match his tricks with tricks of my own. If it was to be Roumi brains against Arab brains here also--well, we would see what we should see. . . .
"What manner of man is the leader of these emissaries of another Power?" I asked. "How many of them are there? . . . What is the Emir's attitude . . . ? Tell me all you can. . . . I can buy true information at a high price. . . ."
"So can these others," grinned the pious Hadji. "The leader has already shaken a bag of good fat Turkish medjidies before my eyes, and promised it in return for my help."
"I could shake a bag of something better than that dirty depreciated Turkish rubbish before your eyes, Hadji," I replied, "and pour it into your lap too. . . . Fine new coins of pure gold! French twenty-franc pieces! Beautiful for women's chains and bangles, and even more beautiful to spend on fine raiment, tents, camels, weapons, food, servants, rugs, horses . . ."
The rascal's eyes glittered.
"How many, Sidi?" he asked.
"As many as you earn. . . . As many as your help is worth. . . . Now talk. . . ."
"It is a small caravan, Sidi," began this saintly marabout, "but very well equipped. There is plenty of money behind it. . . . I never saw better camels nor weapons, and their hired camel-men are well-paid and content. . . . I do not know from whom they really come, but they have the blessing of the Father of the Faithful, God's Vicar upon Earth, who rules at Stamboul, and of the Great Sheikh of the Senussi. They say this openly in mejliss--and prove it with documents, passes, firmans and letters--but they talk privately, at night, with the Emir and the Wazir. . . ."
"What do they offer, openly?" I asked.
"The friendship and protection of the King of Kings, the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Father of the Faithful, who dwells at Stamboul; and the friendship and alliance of the powerful Sheikh el Senussi. . . . A great Pan-Islamic Alliance is being formed, in readiness for a certain Day of Jehad. . . ."
"And in private?" I asked.
"That I do not know," was the reply. "Only that dog of a Wazir--may swine defile the graves of his ancestors--knoweth the mind of the Emir; and he alone accompanies him to the tents of the Roumi."
"But this I do know," he continued, "they will give me wealth untold if I will poison you and the two Sitts, whom they declare to be female spies of the French--sent to debauch and beguile the Emir with their charms. . . ."
"How do they know of our presence here?" I asked quietly, though my blood boiled.
"Oh, I visit them! . . . I visit them! . . . And we talk. . . . We talk. . . ." replied this treacherous reptile. "They say I might, if I preferred, kill you and seize the Sitts for my hareem for a while, before I either slay them or cut out their tongues. . . . Dumb women are the only discreet ones . . ." and the Hadji laughed merrily.
I managed to smile coldly, while I burned hotly with fierce rage, and changed the subject.
"Are they Great Men, Lords, Sidis, Nobles, Officers, Born Leaders, these emissaries?" I asked.
"No," replied the Hadji. "They are low men on high horses. They do not walk, speak, look, give, ride, eat nor act as men of noble birth. . . ."
Through a narrow aperture at the entrance to my tent I could see that the stars were paling.
"You shall take me to their camp--now--Hadji," I said, and pulled on burnous, haik, kafiyeh, and fil-fil boots.
The Hadji seemed a little startled.
"It would not look well for me to be seen visiting their camp now," he said. "It will soon be light. . . ."
"You need not visit their camp," I replied. "Take me to where I can see it, and then disappear."
The good man sat awhile in thought.
"How much, Sidi?" he asked.
"I am not like those others," I replied. "I do not shake bags of money in the faces of pious and honest men, nor haggle and bargain. I richly reward those who serve me well--very richly--when their service is completed. . . . Now do as I say, or go away, and let me sleep in peace, for this chatter wearies me . . ." and I yawned.
The Hadji went to the doorway and collogued with the soldier without.
Returning, he said that he had dispatched my sentry to inform the guard at the camp of the emissaries that a man would shortly visit the latter, and must not be challenged, as he came from the Emir on secret business. The countersign was "Stamboul."
"This fellow, one Gharibeel Zarrug, is entirely faithful to me, Sidi," he added. "You can always send me messages by his mouth. I can arrange that he is very frequently on guard over your tent."
We sat in silence for a few minutes, a silence broken by the Hadji's request for a taste of the sharab of the Infidels. I gave the good man a nip of cognac and I believe this bound him to my interests (until they clashed with his) more strongly than gold would have done. He had all the stigmata of the secret drunkard, and his tongue continually flickered at his lips like that of a snake.
The soldier returned and whispered.
"Come, Sidi," said the Hadji, "I will take you as far as is safe."
"Safe for me or for you?" I asked.
"Nowhere is safe for you, Sidi," was the reply. "Take my advice and flee for your life--to return with an army, and a treaty which I will sign as Regent. . . ."
I did my best by careful noting of direction, the stars, clumps of trees, tents, water-runnels and stones, to ensure my being able to make the return journey. . . .
After we had walked for about a mile, the Hadji stopped in the black shadow of some palms and pointed to an orderly cluster of tents, just visible from where we stood.
"That
