He had been vexed at the time, and had perhaps spoken hastily and foolishly. He recalled dimly an historical parallel. A king had once said in his anger "Will nobody rid me of the turbulent priest," and straightway four rollicking spirits had driven over to Canonbury—or was it Canterbury? and sliced off the head of a worthy bishop, Cardinal Wolsey or somebody of the sort. These thoughts filled his mind as his Arab barb trotted through the sand. In his annoyance he had accused Alicia of encouraging the Duke to follow her, and she had indignantly denied it. Hal, rashly coming to the support of his father, had been entirely and conclusively squashed. So three people rode forth on a picnic harbouring uncharitable thoughts toward the Duc de Montvillier. Sir Harry’s wrath was tinctured with fear because of Big Bill Slewer of Four Ways, Texas. Hal’s anger was inflamed by jealousy, for he was in love with his cousin. Alicia’s annoyance was directed against the Duke because he had been the cause of her embarrassment. Was Bill Slewer in Tangier? Sir Harry had sent the imposing Mahmud Ali to inquire, but Mahmud Ali had no familiars, as Rabbit had, and the answer he brought to his employer was unsatisfactory. They rode in silence for an hour, with no sign of the enemy the vice-consul had foreshadowed. Alicia was in ignorance of that interview. Sir Harry had not deemed the conversation sufficiently interesting to repeat. When they had reached the little hill whereon lunch was to be taken, he unbent. Possibly a pint of excellent champagne was responsible for his garrulity. "Danger?" said Alicia, looking nervously about. "Oh, uncle, what a ridiculous thing to say." "So _I_ said, my dear," said Sir Harry; "with Gibraltar a stone’s throw away, and a British fleet to be had for the asking—it is all bosh to talk about danger." "That is what _I_ said, governor," corrected Hal. "I pointed out that Morocco is in too dicky a position to fool about with British subjects—now who the devil is this?" His last words were addressed to nobody in particular and Alicia followed the direction of his gaze. Over a sandy ridge two miles away, pranced two horsemen. "Pranced" is the word, for that is the impression they conveyed. Hal, who was no fool despite all contrary views that might be held, knew that they were galloping pretty hard. "They are making straight for us," said Sir Harry, and his face was a little pale. Hal jumped up and gave an order to the guide. "Pack these things up as quick as you can," he ordered; "we can’t be too careful." He raised his glasses and fixed them on the riders. Then he swore. "That damned Duke," he said and heard a long-drawn sigh behind him, where Alicia stood. "Duke!" muttered Sir Harry, "confound the fellow! I thought it was—er—well, never mind. Who’s the other man?" "Who?" snorted Hal. "Who could it be, governor, but the Yankee person." "Hum," said Sir Harry.