do not keep me in suspense, if harm has come to
my son." Sidi Mohammed did not invite his guest to sit down.

"No harm has come to the boy," Stephen reassured him. "He is in good
hands."

"In charge of his uncle, whom I have appointed his guardian," the
marabout broke in.

"He doesn't know anything yet," Stephen said to himself, quickly. Then,
aloud: "At present, he is not in charge of his uncle, but is with a
friend of mine. He will be sent back safe and well to Oued Tolga, when
you have discovered the whereabouts of Miss Ray--the young lady of whom
you knew nothing the other day--and when you have produced her. I know
now, with absolute certainty, that she is here in the Zaouia. When she
leaves it, with me and the escort I have brought, to join her friends,
you will see your son again, but not before; and never unless Miss Ray
is given up."

The marabout's dark hands clenched themselves, and he took a step
forward, but stopped and stood still, tall and rigid, within
arm's-length of the Englishman.

"Thou darest to come here and threaten me!" he said. "Thou art a fool.
If thou and thy friends have stolen my child, all will be punished, not
by me, but by the power which is set above me to rule this
land--France."

"We have no fear of such punishment, or any other," Stephen answered.
"We have 'dared' to take the boy; and I have dared, as you say, to come
here and threaten, but not idly. We have not only your son, but your
secret, in our possession; and if Miss Ray is not allowed to go, or if
anything happens to me, you will never see your boy again, because
France herself will come between you and him. You will be sent to prison
as a fraudulent pretender, and the boy will become a ward of the nation.
He will no longer have a father."

The dark eyes blazed above the mask, though still the marabout did not
move. "Thou art a liar and a madman," he said. "I do not understand thy
ravings, for they have no meaning."

"They will have a fatal meaning for Cassim ben Halim if they reach the
ears of the French authorities, who believe him dead," said Stephen,
quietly. "Ben Halim was only a disgraced officer, not a criminal, until
he conspired against the Government, and stole a great position which
belonged to another man. Since then, prison doors are open for him if
his plottings are found out."

Unwittingly Stephen chose words which were as daggers in the breast of
the Arab. Although made without knowledge of the secr