dn't you?

BRASSBOUND. Take horse, then; and ride fast to your master the Sheikh
Sidi el Assif.

OSMAN (proudly). Kinsman to the Prophet.

BRASSBOUND. Tell him what you have seen here. That is all. Johnson: give
him a dollar; and note the hour of his going, that his master may know
how fast he rides.

OSMAN. The believer's word shall prevail with Allah and his servant Sidi
el Assif.

BRASSBOUND. Off with you.

OSMAN. Make good thy master's word ere I go out from his presence, O
Johnson el Hull.

JOHNSON. He wants the dollar.

Brassbound gives Osman a coin.

OSMAN (bowing). Allah will make hell easy for the friend of Sidi el
Assif and his servant. (He goes out through the arch.)

BRASSBOUND (to Johnson). Keep the men out of this until the Sheikh
comes. I have business to talk over. When he does come, we must keep
together all: Sidi el Assif's natural instinct will be to cut every
Christian throat here.

JOHNSON. We look to you, Captain, to square him, since you invited him
over.

BRASSBOUND. You can depend on me; and you know it, I think.

JOHNSON (phlegmatically). Yes: we know it. (He is going out when Sir
Howard speaks.)

SIR HOWARD. You know also, Mr. Johnson, I hope, that you can depend on
ME.

JOHNSON (turning). On YOU, sir?

SIR HOWARD. Yes: on me. If my throat is cut, the Sultan of Morocco may
send Sidi's head with a hundred thousand dollars blood-money to the
Colonial Office; but it will not be enough to save his kingdom--any more
than it would saw your life, if your Captain here did the same thing.

JOHNSON (struck). Is that so, Captain?

BRASSBOUND. I know the gentleman's value--better perhaps than he knows
it himself. I shall not lose sight of it.

Johnson nods gravely, and is going out when Lady Cicely returns softly
by the little door and calls to him in a whisper. She has taken off her
travelling things and put on an apron. At her chatelaine is a case of
sewing materials.

LADY CICELY. Mr. Johnson. (He turns.) I've got Marzo to sleep. Would you
mind asking the gentlemen not to make a noise under his window in the
courtyard.

JOHNSON. Right, maam. (He goes out.)

Lady Cicely sits down at the tiny table, and begins stitching at a sling
bandage for Marzo's arm. Brassbound walks up and down on her right,
muttering to himself so ominously that Sir Howard quietly gets out of
his way by crossing to the other side and sitting down on the second
saddle seat.

SIR HOWARD. Are you yet