“Miguel Bunol.” “You will pardon me, but I fear I have not the pleasure of the gentleman’s acquaintance.” “You are a Turk?” “Yes.” “You own this yacht?” “Yes.” “You are the man so often seen watching our party in Cairo.” “I think you must be mistaken. I do not seem to remember you. However, if you will step forward a little, I’ll have the searchlight turned on you. I may be able to recognize you then.” “Trick, pard!” hissed the Texan. “At close range they may begin the shooting if they get us into the light.” “Wait a minute,” invited Stringer. “Let me say something, if yo’ please.” Then he addressed the owner of the yacht. “Suh,” he said, “I am Stringer, suh, Colonel Weatherby Stringer, at one time of the khedive’s army. I am visiting Egypt again after a lapse of some years, suh, but I assure yo’ I have friends of power and influence in Cairo and Alexandria. In case harm comes to me, suh, the whole affair will be investigated, and yo’ will find yo’self the sufferer if yo’ are in any degree at fault. That’s all I have to say, suh. Now go ahead and use your old searchlight as much as yo’ like.” This was the little man’s defiance. “Perhaps you may not know me?” broke in the Englishman. “I am John Coddington, and I have a large business interest in Cairo. If I should happen to get shot to-night, I assure you, don’t you know, that it would be a very serious matter for any one who did the shooting.” The stranger bowed. “It happened, gentlemen,” he said, “that I fancied I recognized you both when the searchlight was turned on your boat.” That seemed to explain why no shooting had been done. The presence of Stringer and Coddington had held the enemy in check. The enemy? Were these two men the only ones on the yacht? Surely not. Our friends knew there must be more, but where were they? “Now,” said Dick, “as we are beginning to understand each other, we will inform you further that we are looking for a Spaniard by the name of Miguel Bunol. It is known that he proceeded up the river on the private yacht of a Turkish gentleman. I hardly fancy there is another such yacht on this part of the river.” “And so you think this man you seek must be on board my boat?” “Exactly.” “He is not.” “Do you deny that he has been? Do you deny that he brought a young girl on board this yacht against her will?” The owner of the yacht laughed disdainfully. “Deny it?” he exclaimed. “Of course I do!” “Then you lie!” shouted a voice, as Dunbar Budthorne came leaping from the steamer to the yacht and rushed forward to confront the cool Turk. “I saw her brought on board! This is the yacht! She is here! Search the boat!” CHAPTER XXX—HIS JUST DESERTS The Turk did not shrink before Budthorne. He remained unruffled as he said: “Very well; search the boat, gentlemen. As I know two of you to be responsible, you have my permission to look the yacht over from stem to stern.” “It’s a bluff!” growled Buckhart.