"
"Then two more hours will not weary you. Von Kerber Effendi, or I, or
both of us, will meet you outside the Elephant Mosque at five o'clock.
Nevertheless, should there be others with us, do not speak unless we
address you."
"Who is he, the red ox?" demanded the Arab, gazing after the broad
figure of Captain Stump.
"He is the captain of our ship, a man of no importance. The Hakim
Effendi is in the approaching boat. With, him is Fenshawe Effendi, the
old, gray-haired man. There is a tall young ship's officer there, too.
His name is Royson--you will not forget?--Royson. He is dangerous.
Regard him well. He might prove troublesome, or useful--I hardly know
which at present. Fenshawe Effendi speaks French and Arabic, Royson
Effendi French only. That is all, for the present. Leave me now."
"Adieu, madame. A cinq heures!"
Drawing back into the mob of natives, who were pressing nearer in their
eagerness to offer themselves for hire to the Europeans in the boat,
Abdullah shaded his swarthy face under, a fold of his burnous.
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