I breathed more freely when the mail steamer left the harbour, and not until it had gone did I tell Mr. Scarlett what I had done. He and I stood watching till she disappeared behind the rocks at the entrance, and, drawing a deep breath of relief, he said: "It seems wonderful, sir; don’t it, sir? Here for thirteen years it’s been part and parcel of me, and now I’m finished with it. I never want to set eyes on the beastly thing again." From that moment Mr. Scarlett began very rapidly to mend. He grew stouter, his eyes lost their hunted look, and though he worried much about the risks I was running, still it is a different thing to worry about other people’s risks from worrying about one’s own, and he rapidly recovered his spirits. I made light of any danger and took no precaution whatever, until one night, shortly afterwards, I was awakened by the noise of a scuffle and a splash in the water alongside. "What’s that?" I sang out, springing up. Webster answered out of the darkness: "It’s all right, sir. It’s that Arab chap you hove overboard the other day. He was trying to creep on board over the stern. I spotted him, sir, and popped him back into the ’ditch’." Another day I was bathing with the _Intrepids_, and we were skylarking afterwards on the beach, when a bullet hit the sand close to me and we heard the report of a revolver. Spotting someone moving behind a rock we all darted in that direction, but when we reached it saw no one. I don’t mind saying that those two things happening made me extremely nervous, and made me stick pretty close to the "_B.A._". I could now realize what mental agony Mr. Scarlett had suffered, and though perhaps I did not show it as much I felt it most acutely. The boot was on the other foot now with a vengeance, and it was I who, when it grew dark, looked longingly at the little hot oven of a cabin and felt a great temptation to lock myself in until daylight. A few days after the revolver-shot incident Mr. Scarlett astonished me by asking leave to go ashore for a walk in Muscat itself. Remember that he had not dared to land since he and I had had that first walk there and had run across Jassim. Away he went, taking Jaffa and Webster with him, and they did not return on board until long after I had finished dinner. Mr. Scarlett was chuckling—I had never seen him so pleased with himself—Jaffa had a contented smile on his face, and Webster so far forgot himself as to wink at me. "Hallo, what have you been doing?" I asked. "He’s all right, sir," the gunner said, rubbing his hands. "Mr. Jassim won’t be worrying you again for some time." "What has happened?" I asked eagerly. "Have you killed him?"