Presently they stopped before a door, which was opened by a negro slave, and the guards remained outside while Miles and the interpreter entered. The court into which they were ushered was open to the sky, and contained a fountain in the centre, with boxes of flowers and shrubs around it. At the inner end of it stood a tall powerful Arab, leaning on a curved sword. Miles saw at a glance that he was the same man whose life he had saved, and who had come so opportunely to the rescue of his friend Molloy. But the Arab gave him no sign of recognition. On the contrary, the glance which he bestowed on him was one of calm, stern indifference. "Ask him," he said at once to the interpreter, "where are the Christian dogs who were captured with him?" "Tell him," replied Miles, when this was translated, "that I know nothing about the fate of any of them except one." "Which one is that?" "The sailor," answered Miles. "Where is he?" "In the prison I have just left." "And you know nothing about the others?" "Nothing whatever." The Arab seemed to ponder these replies for a few minutes. Then, turning to the interpreter, he spoke in a tone that seemed to Miles to imply the giving of some strict orders, after which, with a wave of his hand, and a majestic inclination of the head, he dismissed them. Although there was little in the interview to afford encouragement, Miles nevertheless was rendered much more hopeful by it, all the more that he observed a distinct difference in the bearing of the interpreter towards him as they went out. "Who is that?" he ventured to ask as he walked back to the prison. "That is Mohammed, the Mahdi's cousin," answered the interpreter. Miles was about to put some more questions when he was brought to a sudden stand, and rendered for the moment speechless by the sight of Moses Pyne--not bearing heavy burdens, or labouring in chains, as might have been expected, but standing in a shallow recess or niche in the wall of a house, busily engaged over a small brazier, cooking beans in oil, and selling the same to the passers-by! "What you see?" demanded the interpreter. "I see an old friend and comrade. May I speak to him?" asked Miles, eagerly. "You may," answered the interpreter. The surprise and joy of Moses when his friend slapped him on the shoulder and saluted him by name is not easily described. "I _am_ so glad to see you, old fellow!" he said, with sparkling eyes. "I thought you must be dead, for I've tried so often to find out what had become of you. Have some beans and oil?" He dipped a huge ladleful out of the pot, as if he were going to administer a dose on the spot. "No, thank you, Moses, I'm a prisoner. These are my guards. I wonder they have allowed me even to exchange a word with you. Must be quick. They told us you had been half-hanged till you were frightened to death."