“I was stunned for the time,” said Dunbar. “When I recovered the men were gone and she had disappeared. I ran about aimlessly, but something guided me to the river. I saw them in a boat that was rowing off to a small yacht. I saw them lift my sister from the boat over the rail into the yacht. Steam was up. The yacht hoisted anchor and away it went up the river. All this time I was running up and down the bank, trying to hire some one to take me off to the yacht in a boat. No one would. And when the yacht was far up the river I turned and came back here as fast as I could. Oh, Nadia—poor Nadia! How can we save her?” CHAPTER XXVIII—IN BUNOL’S POWER A small but handsome private yacht, under full head of steam, was making its swift course up the Nile. In the tiny, Orientally furnished cabin of this yacht, Miguel Bunol stood with his feet wide apart, his hands in his pockets, puffing at a cigarette and triumphantly regarding a cowering, pale-faced, red-eyed girl. Bunol’s manner was insolent and self-satisfied in the extreme. He felt that he was master of the situation at last and his heart beat high with exultation. Nadia glanced at him in terror. She had crept as far from him as possible. “I am greatly sorry to cause you such vast distress,” said the young Spaniard, with pretended regret. Her lips curled. “You, sorry!” she exclaimed chokingly. “No doubt you do not believe me, but it is true, my dear—I swear it is true.” Her eyes began to flash. “You know you are lying, you monster!” “At least,” he retorted, with a dark smile, “your spirit is not broken, and I like that. You made such a terrible disturbance, and you did weep so much that I feared you would not have any spirit left. I admire the girl of spirit, and for the one who cows and whimpers, like a whipped puppy, I have but little regard.” She was silent, but scorn and loathing continued to gleam in her eyes. “I regret to the exceeding limit that we felt it necessary to pursue the course we did, but we dared not wait longer.” “We? You mean yourself.” “There is another concerned.” “What other?” “My friend, Medjid Bey. He is the owner of this yacht.” “A Turk! A worthy comrade!” “Medjid Bey is a Turkish gentleman of high rank. He stands high in the regard of the sultan.” “I am glad to know the name of your accomplice in this dastardly piece of business.” “Oh, you will know him far better before this affair is over. He is a splendid fellow. Only for that, at this moment you might be under arrest, and on your way back to Damascus, or to Constantinople.” She betrayed her total disbelief in the words of Bunol. “I give you the assurance of a gentleman that I speak the truth,” he bowed. “The assurance of a gentleman!” she exclaimed. “A fine gentleman! A gambler, a scheming scoundrel!” “You misjudge me greatly, Nadia. You have never understood me. From the first I took a friendly interest in your brother. I knew his weaknesses, and I tried——”