e daren't take the risk. Mrs. Wood, the Padre's wife, is a
first-class nurse, and she and Iris are doing their very best for the
poor fellow. But still"--Sir Richard shook his head--"there's no doubt
the illness has got a fast grip of him, and I'm afraid of the result,
Anstice, I confess I am afraid."

He broke off for a moment, then resumed in a brisker tone:

"Well, here is the station, and now we may expect another uproar over
your precious baggage. The best thing to do is to single out one fellow
and promise him good _bakshish_ if he gets rid of the others; and here
is Mahomed, who is a first-class fellow for the job!"

He beckoned to a tall, pock-marked Arab in a dusty fez and faded blue
djibbeh, and by dint of lavish promises secured his noisy but efficient
services, with the result that in an incredibly short space of time the
luggage was safely tumbled into the train and Anstice and Sir Richard
faced each other, exhausted but triumphant, in an otherwise empty
carriage.

"By Jove, but those beggars make me hot!" Anstice threw himself back
into his corner and drew a long breath. "It's always a mystery to me how
people who live in hot climates are so beastly energetic! They seem to
have quicksilver in their veins, not blood."

"Yet they are lethargic enough at times," returned Sir Richard, pointing
to a recumbent form lying unconcernedly on the platform a few feet from
their open window. "Look at that fellow sleeping there--he doesn't care
in the least what goes on around him--and many times in the street one
has to move off the pavement to avoid stepping on some idle beggar who's
drawn the hood of his garment over his head and gone to sleep, literally
among the feet of the passers-by!"

As the train proceeded on its way Sir Richard outlined the situation a
little more fully to his keenly-interested companion.

"When I left, Mrs. Wood had pretty well taken up her abode with Iris,"
he said. "Their servants--native, of course--behaved badly, as those
mongrel Arabs often do, and promptly deserted us soon as they found
there was likely to be trouble ahead. All but one, a very decent chap
called Hassan, who is really fond of Iris and would do a lot for her."

"The other people in the village--Bedouins, I think you said?--how do
they get on with their white neighbours?"

Sir Richard's forehead suddenly puckered into a worried frown.

"Not too well," he said slowly. "The fact is, I believe they resented
the Eur