His view was somewhat broken by the rows of pillars supporting the colonnade in front of the shops of which his master’s establishment was one; but through the interval between two of them he did at last see the two forms moving with rather suspicious quickness across the illumined square, and, what was more interesting to him, they were seemingly coming in his direction. Were they thieves, he wondered? He could hardly believe it, for the village was small; they could scarcely escape detection; and the sheikh’s ingenuity in punishments was notorious even in Morocco, where torture is a fine art. With instinctive caution Ahmed closed the wicket, leaving only a slit just wide enough for him to peep through. In a few moments he heard the slight rustle of the strangers’ garments, and saw their dark forms clearly outlined against the moonlight. They had come under the colonnade and halted within two or three yards of him, behind one of the pillars. They whispered a little together, then were silent for a space, then whispered again: and now Ahmed was interested indeed, for, low as their tones were, he overheard a word or two, and they made him jump; they were certainly not in the Moorish tongue. His master’s business had taken him more than once to Dár al Beida, and he had heard such words used by the N’zrani—the unbelievers who were suffered to pollute the city by their presence. How came it that here, in Ain Afroo, a village where no unbeliever ever set foot save a dog of a Jew now and then (though truly there were one or two infidel wretches now safely confined in the kasbah)—how came it that two men, good Moors and followers of the Prophet, to all appearance, were speaking in the tongue of the infidel? It was perplexing, to say the least, and undoubtedly worthy of the attention of Hamadi his master. Leaving the wicket, Ahmed silently groped his way to the charpoy on which the swordsmith was sleeping, and gently awakened him. In a low whisper he conveyed the news of his discovery. Hamadi at once rose, and, trusting to the pitch darkness of the colonnade, opened the wicket fully, and listened with all his ears. * * * * * Tom and Abdul had no sooner crossed the square than the bolts of the shop door opposite which they had been standing were softly drawn back, and Hamadi, followed by his apprentice, glided barefoot after them. Each bore a sword—good weapons, as Hamadi, who had made them, well knew. Hamadi saw a vision of great prosperity and high favour with the sheikh. He would follow up the strangers, if strangers they indeed were, to the house where they harboured. There he would leave Ahmed to keep watch, while he himself sped to the kasbah and told what he had seen. Without doubt the sheikh would reward him handsomely.