Dick’s trousers were turned up, his shoes stripped off, coarse and dirty socks pulled on over those he wore. He was given a pair of trousers which came to his ankles, a long, loose, dirty blouse that fell to the knees, a coarse, heavy pair of slipper-like shoes, and finally a battered and soiled fez, with a tassle that hung down over one ear. His face was bedaubed and rubbed with grease paint until his complexion changed to dirty yellow. The Jew touched his features here and there with a pencil, and last the contour of his nose was altered by a bit of nose putty. This seemed to be an afterthought on the part of Abraham, but it finished the effect and altered a handsome boy into a slouching, disreputable-appearing young rascal, such as Merriwell had noticed occasionally on the streets of Damascus. Outside the hotel there was a sudden great shouting. “Some one has arrived,” announced Brad, who had ventured to peep from the window. The tall form of Assouan appeared in the doorway. “Hasten!” he exclaimed. “The Pasha’s officer has come to take you! He is at the door.” CHAPTER XX—THE FLIGHT “Too late!” groaned the professor, almost collapsing. “I feared it!” “Thank goodness Nadia got out of the trap!” muttered Buckhart. “If you do nod escape now id vas der death of Abraham!” groaned the frightened Jew. Dick sprang past Assouan and reached the door. He looked out and then turned. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “There is no one here.” “He is below,” said the black man. “Be quick! There is still a small chance for you.” “Come on, then!” exclaimed Brad. But Dick saw the old professor had sunk down weakly on the couch, and he leaped to the side of Zenas. “Come, professor!” he breathed, grasping the hand of the unnerved man. “Go!” gasped the old pedagogue weakly. “Save yourself, if you can. Leave me. My strength is gone. God bless you, Richard! If I am beheaded by these fanatics, tell my wife—tell the boys——” In spite of Professor Gunn’s lack of nerve, in spite of the spells of trepidation which seized him, in spite of his many weaknesses, the old man had won a warm corner in Dick Merriwell’s heart, and Dick was not the boy to desert in time of peril any one for whom he had the slightest regard. “I’ll not tell them anything!” he said grimly. “If you do not brace up and attempt to escape, I’ll remain here with you, and you know what that means. You may not be harmed, for you were not present when Hafsa Pasha was slain; but as surely as I fall into the hands of the sultan’s officers, there will be very little show for me. Unless you brace up now, you may destroy me.” Dick spoke in this manner thinking it might be the best way to arouse the old man, and he made no mistake. “I—I—I——” stammered the professor. Brad urged them to hasten. Suddenly Dick picked the professor up by main strength and placed him on his feet. Supporting the old man, he hurried him toward the door.