"
"She an' the Baron make a good pair, Miss," said Stump. "I've had my
eye on 'em, an' they're up to some mischief now, or my name ain't wot
it is."
The girl glanced at him wonderingly, for the sturdy sailor's outspoken
opinion fitted in curiously with her own half-formed thought.
"You would not say that if you knew why they have left us," she said.
"Mebbe not, Miss Fenshawe, an' mebbe you've on'y heard half a yarn, if
you'll pardon my way of puttin' it. Anyway, the Baron is in a mighty
hurry to be off; an' isn't it plain enough that he doesn't want to be
here when Mr. Royson comes back? You mark my words, Miss. You'll hear
something that'll surprise you when our second mate heaves in sight."
Never did man prophesy more truly, yet never was prophet more amazed at
his own success....
Royson and Abdur Kad'r, flying for their lives, spurred on by the
further knowledge that even if they escaped capture or death they yet
had to undertake a difficult journey on tired beasts if they would save
the expedition from the attack evidently meditated by Alfieri and his
cohort of plunderers, the two, then--Englishman and Arab--rode like men
who valued their necks but lightly.
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