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I have been with Achmet Zek for many years--his own
mother never knew him so well as I. He never forgives--
much less would he again trust a man who had once
betrayed him; that I know.
"I have thought much, as I said, and the result of my
thinking has assured me that Achmet Zek is dead--for
otherwise you would never have dared return to his
camp, unless you be either a braver man or a bigger
fool than I have imagined. And, if this evidence of my
judgment is not sufficient, I have but just now
received from your own lips even more confirmatory
witness--for did you not say that Achmet Zek was never
more safe from the sins and dangers of mortality?
"Achmet Zek is dead--you need not deny it. I was not
his mother, or his mistress, so do not fear that my
wailings shall disturb you. Tell me why you have come
back here. Tell me what you want, and, Werper, if you
still possess the jewels of which Achmet Zek told me,
there is no reason why you and I should not ride north
together and divide the ransom of the white woman and
the contents of the pouch you wear about your person. Eh?"
The evil eyes narrowed, a vicious, thin-lipped smile
tortured the villainous face, as Mohammed Beyd grinned
knowingly into the face of the Belgian.
Werper was both relieved and disturbed by the Arab's
attitude. The complacency with which he accepted the
death of his chief lifted a considerable burden of
apprehension from the shoulders of Achmet Zek's
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assassin; but his demand for a share of the jewels
boded ill for Werper when Mohammed Beyd should have
learned that the precious stones were no longer in the
Belgian's possession.
To acknowledge that he had lost the jewels might be to
arouse the wrath or suspicion of the Arab to such an
extent as would jeopardize his new-found chances of
escape. His one hope seemed, then, to lie in fostering
Mohammed Beyd's belief that the jewels were still in
his possession, and depend upon the accidents of the
future to open an avenue of escape.
Could he contrive to tent with the Arab upon the march
north, he might find opportunity in plenty to remove
this menace to his life and liberty--it was worth
trying, and, further, there seemed no other way out of
his difficulty.
"Yes," he said, "Achmet Zek is dead. He fell in battle
with a company of Abyssinian cavalry that held me
captive. During the fighting I escaped; but I doubt if
any of Achmet Zek's men live, and the gold they sought
is in the possession of the Abyssinians. Even now they
are doubtless marching on this camp, for they were sent
by Menelek to punish Achmet Zek and his followers for a
raid upon an Abyssinian village. There are many of
them, and if we do not make haste to escape we shall
all suffer the same fate as Achmet Zek."
Mohammed Beyd listened in silence. How much of the
unbeliever's story he might safely believe he did not
know; but as it afforded him an excuse for deserting
the village and making for the north he was not
inclined to cross-question the Belgian too minutely.
"And if I ride north with you," he asked, "half the
jewels and half the ransom of the woman shall be mine?"
"Yes," replied Werper.
"Good," said Mohammed Beyd. "I go now to give the
order for the breaking of camp early on the morrow,"
and he rose to leave the tent.
Werper laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
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"Wait," he said, "let us determine how many shall
accompany us. It is not well that we be burdened by
the women and children, for then indeed we might be
overtaken by the Abyssinians. It would be far better
to select a small guard of your bravest men, and leave
word behind that we are riding WEST. Then, when
the Abyssinians come they will be put upon the wrong
trail should they have it in their hearts to pursue us,
and if they do not they will at least ride north with
less rapidity than as though they thought that we were
ahead of them."
"The serpent is less wise than thou, Werper," said
Mohammed Beyd with a smile. "It shall be done as you
say. Twenty men shall accompany us, and we shall ride
WEST--when we leave the village."
"Good," cried the Belgian, and so it was arranged.
Early the next morning Jane Clayton, after an almost
sleepless night, was aroused by the sound of voices
outside her prison, and a moment later, M. Frecoult,
and two Arabs entered. The latter unbound her ankles
and lifted her to her feet. Then her wrists were
loosed, she was given a handful of dry bread, and led
out into the faint light of dawn.
She looked questioningly at Frecoult, and at a moment
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