t the ship was slowing down. The engines beat
more feebly, then ceased to beat. The ship glided on for a moment in
silence, and stopped. A cold fear ran over the Princess. She called to a
sailor.

"Why," she said, "why do we stop? Is anything wrong?"

He pointed to some lights on the port side.

"We are off Hammam-Lif, madame," he said. "We are going to lie to for
half-an-hour to take in cargo."

To the Princess that half-hour seemed all eternity. She remained upon
deck, and whenever she heard the splash of oars as a boat drew near, or
the guttural sound of an Arab voice, she trembled, and, staring into the
blackness, fancied that she saw the tall figure, the pointed head, and
the deformed eyes of the jewel doctor. But the minutes passed. The
cargo was all got on board. The boats drew off. And once again the ship
shuddered as the heart of her began to beat, and the ebon water ran
backward from her prow.

Then the Princess was glad. She laid the hand on which shone Safti's
emerald upon the bulwark, and gazed towards the sea, turning her back
upon the lights of Hammam-Lif. She thought of safety, of Russia. She did
not hear a soft step drawing near upon the deck behind her. She did not
see the flash of steel descending to the bulwark on which her hand was
laid.

But suddenly the horrible cry of a woman in agony rang through the
night. It was instantly succeeded by a splash in the water, as a tall
figure dived over the vessel's side.

When the sun rose on the following day over the minarets of Tunis the
_Stella d'ltalia_, with the Princess on board, was far out at sea.

The emerald of Safti was once more in the little house in the Rue
Ben-Ziad.

It was still upon the Princess's finger.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Princess And The Jewel Doctor, by
Robert Hichens

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