He made no remark when his new companion was gently but firmly propelled through the doorway. The newcomer was equally reticent; so the ill-assorted pair--one rigged out in the nondescript garments of a low-class inhabitant of Gibraltar and the other in European clothes and a tarboosh--sat in opposite corners of the limited space. For the best part of an hour neither spoke. Occasionally they regarded each other furtively. Then the gentleman who had demonstrated so effectively how not to shoot straight began to slumber. Sitting on his haunches with his arms clasped round his bent knees, he nodded his crimson tarboosh until his head found a rather uncomfortable resting-place on his clasped hands. Then in his somnolent condition he began muttering his wandering sentences, punctuated with many "Achs!" Enrico listened intently. Hitherto he had been in ignorance of the motive that had prompted the would-be murderer. Now he had enough evidence to form the conclusion that they both had a motive in common--to wreck the attempt of the British competitor to win the Chauvasse Prize. Nevertheless Jaures was of a cautious disposition, and when his companion awoke he still maintained his attitude of aloofness. Breakfast time came. One of the "Golden Hind’s" crew appeared with quite a substantial meal, and both men were hungry. The pure, cold air, a striking contrast to the hot, enervating atmosphere of Alexandria, had given them an enormous appetite, and the fact that they had to share their meals and were not provided with knives and forks did not trouble them. "Pass the salt," said Enrico’s companion, speaking in German. Jaures complied without hesitation. The request was so natural that it took him completely off his guard. "So you do speak German," remarked the wearer of the tarboosh. Enrico shook his head. "Come, come," continued the other. "Do not say that you cannot. I asked you for the salt. I was not looking at it, so that you have no excuse." Jaures swallowed a big chunk of bread and stole cautiously to the door. For a few seconds he listened lest there should be anyone eavesdropping without. "Yes," he admitted. "My mother was German. But don’t speak so loudly." "From what town came she?" enquired his companion. "From Lubeck," he replied. "And I come from Immeristadt. I am a Swabian and my name is Otto Freising," announced the German. "What are you doing here?" "I am not here of my own free will," said Jaures, guardedly. He was rather inclined to shut up like an oyster, but his semi-compatriot was persistent. "I suppose these Englishmen will hang me," remarked Otto. "My one regret is that I did not succeed in my attempt." "What attempt?" asked Enrico, innocently. As a matter of fact he knew, having watched the shooting affray. Otto told him. "The trouble is," he added, "I’ve been paid for this business. Ten thousand Egyptian piastres. I have a banker’s order for that amount in my pocket. Will they search me?"