ility of repeating the
operation. Mark seemed to read his thoughts.

"No, my friend, it will not happen again; I will see to that. I have
you more fully in my power now, and I can assure you I have no
intention of letting you again slip through my fingers."

"That remains to be seen," replied George, coolly. "But you haven't
paid me that money yet, and I shall be glad of it just now."

This was only said out of bravado, and had its effect. Mark could
not refrain from smiling as he replied----

"What, still harping on the old theme? Ah, well, you always were a
cool fellow, but I'm afraid your coolness will avail you little now.
I gave you a chance at Port Said, for old acquaintance' sake, a
chance which you wantonly threw away in a manner little calculated
to enlist my sympathy; and now, nothing I can do will save you," and
he grinned fiendishly at the irony of his own words.

George was not in the least taken in by them; he knew full well that
this man would stop at nothing to injure him, so he treated his
words with contempt.

"Ah, you do not believe me," Mark went on, observing the look of
disdain on George's face.

"But you will soon see. Listen to this," and he read from what he
had written on the paper in front of him.

"I am sending down a man captured, by my command, in the act of
spying our works here. He is an interpreter to the enemy, and
therefore a man to be feared. I refrain from sentencing him here, as
a spy is always a useful subject for interrogation for the
authorities, and if he receives his punishment here, of course that
will all be lost."

"That is my dispatch to Arabi, Helmar, as far as you are concerned.
Doubtless you can draw your own conclusions as to its meaning."

"Yes," replied George, "I can. It means that you are asking to have
me shot, probably tortured first to extract information from me
which I do not possess. Bah! you are a cowardly hound!"

"Exactly. For the sake of Auld Lang Syne," he replied coldly. "I do
not care to have your execution on my hands. But I have no intention
of letting you escape. Now you understand what I meant when I said
that nothing could save you."

As he finished speaking, he again bent over his writing. George
watched him as his pen flew rapidly over the paper; he had nothing
that he cared to say to such a despicable hound. He was simply
raging with indignation at the traitor, and his fingers twitched
longingly to get to the man's throat. Howeve