The Moor had naturally nothing to say for himself. He saw himself confronted by an elderly whiskered foreigner, in a yachting cap and blue serge suit, brandishing a formidable stick. Mr. Greatorex was in a passion. The exertions of the march, the pains of being hauled up a wall, not without bumps, the scamper at the rear of his men into the Moor’s kasbah, had deprived him equally of breath and of self-control. Determined not to be left ignominiously out of the hurly-burly, he forced himself to the front, and thrust his stick under the very nose of the Moor—who stood a foot above him—calling him to account in the spluttering sentence recorded above. For a few moments there was a deadlock, and Tom felt the need of an interpreter. Eventually he persuaded Mr. Greatorex to give way, and managed to make the Moor understand that if he valued his life he must at once bring out the Firangi whom he had recently introduced to his house. Finding himself shut off by the gate of his own kasbah from the support of his men, the Moor recognized that he had no choice but to comply, and at a command from him one of his servants brought Sir Mark Ingleton and Oliphant from the upper floor into the patio, looking none the worse for their brief incarceration. “_Delighted_ to see you,” said Mr. Greatorex, stepping forward and wringing the diplomatist’s hand; Oliphant he studiously ignored. “Mr. Greatorex, I presume,” returned Sir Mark. “I hope to make your better acquaintance, sir. Meanwhile, if I may be allowed——” His quick eye had taken in the situation at a glance. “Peace be with thee!” he said in Arabic, turning with a bland smile to the scowling Moor, “You perceive, O Salaam, that my friends also, being alarmed at my absence, have availed themselves of your generous hospitality. They are distressed at the unceremonious manner of their entry, but you will assuredly deign to pardon it, for have you not professed yourself my devoted servant? You will be the first to forgive an intrusion due solely to the too great zeal of my friends.” The Moor, chagrined and bewildered, had no option but to acquiesce in this polite fiction, though it is to be feared his reply lacked something of the diplomatist’s ease and suavity.