“No. The mouse does not put his head in the jaws of the lion.” “And the smell of tobacco is quite fresh. I believe the prisoner has only lately been removed. Where would they take him if they feared an attempt at rescue?” With a significant look Abdul pointed downwards. “The dungeons, eh? Where are they?” “Under the ground, master.” “Well, we must get down there if we can. Do you know the way?” The Moor hesitated. He knew too well the fate of unhappy people who had offended the sheikh, and upon whom the sheikh exercised the power of life and death. Once, in Tangier, he had accompanied a friend to such a dungeon, where his friend’s father was confined for denying that he possessed hidden treasure. The man’s eyes had been put out, one of his hands had been cut off, and he had languished for years in this loathsome place, where he would have starved but for the food brought him daily by his son, and handed to him through a grating. Abdul had no wish to see the inside of the kasbah’s dungeon. But his hesitation was only momentary. Tom was clearly determined to pursue his object, and the Moor reflected that, whatever he did, he was in parlous danger. Besides, did not everything happen by the will of Allah? If it was decreed that he should die, he would die; if he was doomed to a living death in prison, nothing that he could do would avert his fate. So, with a Moor’s habitual fatalism, he told his employer all he knew. There was doubtless one entrance to the dungeon from the patio beneath, where the jailer occupied a room near the great gateway. But there must also be an entrance from within the house. Below the vestibule in which they then stood was probably another vestibule, dividing the rooms of the servants’ apartments. Whether there was any communication between the two vestibules he did not know; perhaps it was from the terrace outside. In all probability the inner entrance to the dungeon was from the vestibule below. This gave Tom pause. So far he had been unmolested; indeed, it was only a couple of minutes since he had left the roof. But the thought of having to pass the servants’ apartments was decidedly unpleasant. The sentry’s shot must have been heard; he wondered why the servants had not already come up to warn or to take orders from the sheikh. Luckily the sheikh himself and all his family were securely locked in their apartments. The menials might at any rate be expected to prove less formidable.