“You see what happens to curs who betray Ras al Had,” said the sheik, in a harsh voice. “Heavens!” gasped Dick. “The miserable wretch has been beaten until his back is all cut up!” “He was lashed until the pain loosened his tongue and he confessed,” said the sheik. “This man was one of the four I sent to escort you and the maiden.” “You—you compelled him to tell what has become of her?” “I wrung it from his lips.” “What did he tell?” “You shall hear.” Ras al Had touched the wretched victim with a staff which he took from one corner of the shed. The man did not stir. “Look, thou dog!” said the sheik; “art longing for further punishment? Then speak promptly, or I swear by the beard of the Prophet that thou shalt be cut into a thousand pieces! Who paid thee to choke the infidel lad?” “Why, it’s the fellow who nearly murdered me!” exclaimed Dick, for he had not recognized the mutilated wretch. “The same,” said the sheik. “Why doesn’t he speak? Assouan, bring the whip.” The black man with the light hastened to obey. The whip, a long, wicked-looking affair, with a rawhide lash into which were knotted many pieces of lead, was quickly produced. Ras al Had took the spluttering light from Assouan’s hand. “Stand ready,” he directed. “When I bid you strike have no mercy.” Dick’s blood was cold in his body. The situation was one to fill him with horror. He was alone in that wretched shed, his companions a merciless Arab, a black man of the desert, and the helpless wretch bound outspread on the bare ground. It was night, and the moon had not yet risen. Beneath the shed the darkness was dispelled only by the flaring light, which cast many grotesque shadows dancing on the walls. Again Ras al Had bade the man speak. In return there was neither sound nor movement. “Strike, Assouan—strike!” said the sheik coldly. Assouan lifted the whip. Dick could stand no more of it, and he stepped in front of the black man, crying: “Hold! This is too much! Tell me, Ras al Had, what he confessed, but do not carry this thing further!” A strange look of mingled surprise and rage at this interference settled on the face of the old Arab. He opened his lips to speak, but at this moment the man on the ground groaned and mumbled a few broken words. Instantly Ras al Had bent over the wretch, holding the light so it fell on the man’s face. The traitor’s head had dropped over to one side, his lips were open, showing his gleaming teeth, while his eyes glittered glassily. The sheik poked a finger at those wide-open, glittering eyes. They did not blink. Then Ras al Had rose and said very quietly: “It is too late. He will speak no more. He is dead.” Dick felt ill, and hurried out of the shed into the open air. The old sheik followed.