“In this case it is more to the point that you knew him to be in the pashalik,” replied Sir Dugald; and Azim Bey, seeing that he had betrayed himself, looked blank. “I know very well,” continued the Balio, taking a bold step in his turn, and fixing his eyes on the boy’s face, “that you saw him in disguise at Hillah and recognised him, and that you then gave instructions respecting him to some of his Excellency’s dependents. What were those orders, and where is Dr Egerton now?” Quick as lightning the thought darted into Azim Bey’s head that he had been betrayed. Not perceiving that what had been said was the result of a shrewd guess on Sir Dugald’s part, he leaped to the conclusion that Ishak had been questioned and had implicated him in his answers, and it seemed to him immediately that the whole plot must be known. “He is dead,” he murmured, with hanging head. The effect upon his auditor made Azim Bey perceive too late that he had again incriminated himself unnecessarily. “Dead!” cried Sir Dugald, in a voice that made the Pasha jump. “Yes--Oh, M. le Balio, that was not my fault. I hated him, and I wanted the Kurds to take him prisoner, and they murdered him. I did not want him to die--indeed I did not--I did not mean to have him killed.” “But this is impossible!” cried the Pasha. “What could make you hate this English gentleman, my son?” “I hated him because mademoiselle was in love with him,” returned the boy without hesitation. His father looked scandalised, and Sir Dugald frowned heavily. “There is no need whatever to bring Miss Anstruther’s name into the conversation,” he said, adding, as he turned to the Pasha, “I cannot conceive that these are the real facts of the case, your Excellency. It seems to me that Azim Bey must have been used as a tool by some enemy of Dr Egerton’s.” “But indeed it is not so, M. le Balio,” Azim Bey protested eagerly. “It was I who hated him, and when mad--I mean when _she_ was angry with me about him, I spoke to M. Karalampi, and he made the people of the city hate him, so that he had to leave Baghdad.” “Ah!” broke from Sir Dugald, while the Pasha was silent through sheer astonishment, the minds of both going back to the mysterious events which had preceded Charlie Egerton’s departure. Sir Dugald recovered himself first. “And Karalampi has been your agent in these last negotiations also, Bey? I thought so. Your Excellency,” he said to the Pasha, “I must ask you to have M. Karalampi arrested and brought here at once.” “The order shall be sent immediately,” said the Pasha, and he called Ovannes Effendi from the anteroom. While the necessary directions were being given, Azim Bey crept close to Sir Dugald. “M. le Balio, you will ask my father to let mademoiselle come back from Sardiyeh now?” he asked, anxiously.