"She kem at once," said Tagg, "an' they began to parleyvoo as quick as
you like--"
"They spoke French?" broke in Irene, with a sidelong glance at Dick.
The far-fetched notion which gripped him instantly had also occurred to
the girl.
"Yes, miss. You can allus tell French by the mongin' an' bongin' an'
tongin' that goes on."
At another time Irene would have hailed Tagg's subtle humor with glee,
but there was an element of deadly earnest in the history of the past
few hours that kept her strictly to the issue.
"This Arab--" she said, "was he a tall, good-looking man with a striped
hood to his burnous, his outer cloak, you know?"
"That's him," agreed Tagg. "More like a fellow you'd see at Tangier
than in these parts. You know the sort of chap I mean, cap'n?"
"I do," said Stump. "Reg'lar stage Arabs, they are. Sort of
Frenchified, with clipped whiskers."
"But please tell me what happened," cried Irene breathlessly.
"Well, miss, there ain't much to tell. They had a serious confab for
five minutes, an' then she tells me she's goin' ashore.
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