man was greatly grieved, but Sidi Mohammed was indisposed and
not able to speak with any one. Would Monsieur care to visit the mosque
again, and would he drink coffee?

So this was the game! Stephen was not surprised. His face flushed and
his jaw squared. He would not drink coffee, and he would not give
himself the pleasure of seeing the mosque; but would trouble the
interpreter with a message to the marabout; and would await an answer.
Then Stephen wrote on one of his visiting cards, in English. "I have
important news of your son, which you would regret not hearing. And it
can be told to no one but yourself."

In less than ten minutes the messenger came back. The marabout, though
not well, would receive Monsieur. Stephen was led through the remembered
labyrinth of covered passages, dim and cool, though outside the desert
sand flamed under the afternoon sun; and as he walked he was aware of
softly padding footsteps behind him. Once, he turned his head quickly,
and saw that he was followed by a group of three tall Negroes. They
looked away when they met his eyes, as if they were on his heels by
accident; but he guessed that they had been told to watch him, and took
the caution as a compliment. Yet he realized that he ran some risk in
coming to this place on such an errand as his. Already the marabout
looked upon him as an enemy, no doubt; and it was not impossible that
news of the boy's disappearance had by this time reached the Zaouia, in
spite of his guardian's selfish cowardice. If so, and if the father
connected the kidnapping of his son with to-day's visitor, he might let
his desire for revenge overcome prudence. To prove his power by
murdering an Englishman, his guest, would do the desert potentate more
harm than good in the end; yet men of mighty passions do not always stop
to think of consequences, and Stephen was not blind to his own danger.
If the marabout lost his temper, not a man in the Zaouia but would be
ready to obey a word or gesture, and short work might be made of
Victoria Ray's only champion. However, Stephen counted a good deal on
Ben Halim's caution, and on the fact that his presence in the Zaouia was
known outside. He meant to acquaint his host with that fact as a preface
to their conversation.

"The marabout will come presently," the mild interpreter announced, when
he had brought Stephen once more to the reception room adjoining the
mosque. So saying, he bowed himself away, and shut the door; b