ter. The cabin was a large one, the bed was in
the middle. At the head was a curtain slung to protect the sleeper from
the cold draughts of the night.

Dicky heard a soft footstep in the companionway, then before the door.
He crept behind the curtain. Mahommed Ibrahim was listening without.
Now the door opened very gently, for this careful Orderly had oiled
the hinges that very day. The long flabby face, with the venomous eyes,
showed in the streak of moonlight. Mahommed Ibrahim slid inside, took a
step forward and drew a long knife from his sleeve. Another move towards
the sleeping man, and he was near the bed; another, and he was beside
it, stooping over...

Now, a cold pistol suddenly thrust in your face is disconcerting, no
matter how well laid your plans. It was useless for the Orderly to raise
his hand: a bullet is quicker than the muscles of the arm and the stroke
of a knife.

The two stood silent an instant, the sleeping man peaceful between
them. Dicky made a motion of his head towards the door. Mahommed Ibrahim
turned. Dicky did not lower his pistol as the Orderly, obeying, softly
went as he had softly come. Out through the doorway, up the stairs,
then upon the moonlit deck, the cold muzzle of the pistol at the head of
Mahommed Ibrahim.

Dicky turned now, and faced him, the pistol still pointed.

Then Mahommed Ibrahim spoke. "Malaish!" he said. That was contempt. It
was Mahommedan resignation; it was the inevitable. "Malaish--no matter!"
he said again; and "no matter" was in good English.

Dicky's back was to the light, the Orderly's face in the full glow of
it. Dicky was standing beside the wire communicating with the engineer's
cabin. He reached out his hand and pulled the hook. The bell rang below.
The two above stood silent, motionless, the pistol still levelled.

Holgate, the young Yorkshire engineer, pulled himself up to the deck
two steps of the ladder at a time. "Yes, sir," he said, coming forward
quickly, but stopping short when he saw the levelled pistol. "Drop the
knife, Ibrahim," said Dicky in a low voice. The Orderly dropped the
knife.

"Get it, Holgate," said Dicky; and Holgate stooped and picked it up.
Then he told Holgate the story in a few words. The engineer's fingers
tightened on the knife.

"Put it where it will be useful, Holgate," said Dicky. Holgate dropped
it inside his belt.

"Full steam, and turn her nose to Cairo. No time to lose!" He had told
Holgate earlier in the even