y nothing of her movements, should any one come to inquire. It was for
the same reason that he had been obliged to deceive Monsieur in the
matter of knocking at her door. And as the porter made this answer, he
looked far more impudent than he had looked last night, though he was
smiling blandly.

How much of this was lies and how much truth? Stephen wondered, when,
having given up hope of learning more from landlord or servants, they
left the hotel.

Nevill had to confess that he was puzzled. "Their stories hold together
well enough," he said, "but if they have anything to hide (mind, I don't
say they have) they're the sort to get up their tale beforehand, so as
to make it water-tight. We called last night, and that man Constant must
have known we'd come again, whether we heard from Miss Ray or whether we
didn't--still more, if we _didn't_. Easy as falling off a log to put the
servants up to what he wanted them to say, and prepare them for
questions, without giving them tips under our noses."

"If they know anything that fat old swine doesn't want them to give
away, we can bribe it out of them," said Stephen, savagely. "Surely
these Arabs and half-breeds love money."

"Yes, but there's something else they hold higher, most of them, I will
say in their favour--loyalty to their own people. If this affair has to
do with Arabs, like as not we might offer all we've got without inducing
them to speak--except to tell plausible lies and send us farther along
the wrong track. It's a point of pride with these brown faces. Their own
above the Roumis, and I'm hanged if I can help respecting them for that,
lies and all."

"But why should they lie?" broke out Stephen. "What can it be to them?"

"Nothing, in all probability," Nevill tried to soothe him. "The chances
are, they've told us everything they know, in good faith, and that
they're just as much in the dark about Miss Ray's movements as we
are--without the clue we have, knowing as we do why she came to Algiers.
It's mysterious enough anyhow, what's become of her; but it's more
likely than not that she kept her own secret. You say she admitted in
her letter having heard something which she didn't mention to us when
she was at my house; so she must have got a clue, or what she thought
was a clue, between the time when we took her from the boat to the Hotel
de la Kasbah, and the time when she came to us for lunch."

"It's simply hideous!" Stephen exclaimed. "The only way I