. The old fellow grinned, showing a row of perfect
white teeth, which, in a man of his apparent years, astonished the
companions.

"It is not far," he said, in a peculiar, grating voice, "and I am
going that way myself. It will take but a few minutes."

Osterberg looked inquiringly at George.

"All right, come along. You lead the way, old man," said Helmar,
"and we will follow."

Helmar slipped his hand in his coat pocket to make sure his revolver
was there, and, having satisfied himself on the point, hurried along
behind the Arab, talking and laughing with his friend, as if he had
not the slightest doubt but that everything was fair and
above-board.

The limit of the town was reached, and they passed along the sandy
road until they came to some gardens. Here they turned off, and soon
found themselves in a lonely, obscure sort of disused brick-field
surrounded by some tumble-down hovels. At this spot their guide
suddenly stopped.

"That is the Mosque, in the distance," he said, and without waiting
for reply, hurried off at a pace that belied his age.

"I believe there's some trickery," said Osterberg. "I half wish we
hadn't come. What's to be done?"

"That old man has brought us to this spot for a purpose," said
Helmar. "Why didn't he leave us at the gardens?" A dark look came
into his eyes as he spoke. "Well, we'll give Mr. Mark ten minutes to
turn up," he went on. "After that, we'll go."

The two young men stood for a minute or two, kicking their heels
about, and, at last, Osterberg got so impatient that he suddenly
burst out----

"Come on, don't let us wait here, let us get back to the quay. This
is some beastly hoax. The place is as silent as the grave--it gives
me the creeps."

"I said we would give him ten minutes, and we will do so," said
George, determinedly. "I'm not going until the time has elapsed.
Hallo!" as he caught sight of a figure approaching, "here comes
somebody. Perhaps it's Mark."

His surmise proved correct. Mark came quickly up, and held out his
hand. He was dressed in Egyptian costume, and with his dark
complexion and black eyes might easily have passed as a native.

"Ah! Helmar, and you, Osterberg!" he said. "I am glad to see you."
Then, as neither took the proffered hand, he drew back. "Why, what's
up? Aren't you going to shake hands?"

"You said in your note," exclaimed our hero, impatiently, "that you
wanted to return the money you owe me. Where is it?"

"Ah, that's it!"