“Brave Blunt; he deserves a Victoria cross.  But where were you, Mustapha?”

The Arab hangs his face; he looks sheepish.

“I come up just when all was over.  They twenty against one.  It would be foolish for me to try and fight.  I believe I can do better; so I watch, I follow, I learn much.”

John cannot restrain his feelings.  He seizes the Arab’s dusky hand and shakes it with real Chicago ardor.

“Mustapha, you’re a jewel.  Go on.  Where did you go at the time of the accident?”

“Bismallah!  I was after him, the cause of it all—­him, who entered into this conspiracy—­the driver.  Monsieur, he ran like a deer through the dark.  I thought to grasp him more than once, but each time he turned and let me hug the air.  But success at last.”

“You got him?”

“He picked up a stone with his foot and stretched his length on the ground.  Here was my opportunity.  I embraced it.  Both were out of breath, but I held him there, pinned to the earth.  Great is Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet.”

“Did you make him confess?”

“I tried to persuade by silvery speech, but it did not meet with success.  Then I turned to muscular force.  Monsieur, when Abdul el Jabel saw I was in earnest, he cried out for fear, and swore by all the prophets that if I would let him live he would confess the truth.”

“Good, good!” says John, pleased with the business qualities of his guide.

“Begar! it ees better zan one play,” mutters the French agent.

“So I made the miserable driver confess that he had entered into an arrangement with one of the robbers to upset us between Birkadeen and Al Jezira, so that they could make the capture.”

“The villain! he deserved hanging.  I hope you executed Arab justice on him then and there.”

Mustapha shakes his head.

“Monsieur forgets.  I had given my word.  An Arab will never break that.  But I let him go after a few kicks, which, you see I have learned to give from the Franks.  He will not go back.  He now becomes an open ally of Bab Azoun, the desert tiger.”

“Well—­”

“Monsieur, one word more.  He could not tell me all, but gave me to understand that Bab Azoun was in the employ of another party, some Frank who loves revenge.”

This opens up a new vista.  John is visibly agitated by the news.

“I believe I see light; the hand of Pauline Potter is behind it all.”

“Monsieur, pardon.”

“Well, what is it now?”

“From all he said I was inclined to believe it was a man who bought Bab Azoun.”

“Yes, yes; but you see he may have been mistaken.  Besides, Blunt fought like a tiger.  It does not matter just now.  What we want to do is to rescue them all.”

“That is right.”

“You came upon the scene just as these friends of mine were overpowered.  Tell us what next occurred?”