Colonel Steven had kept in close touch with the whole movement, and had, during the hours he lay in prison with the Major, listened to his description of the wonderful airship which Joe Gresson and his uncle had constructed. He was burning to board the vessel, to ferret out its secrets, to understand its construction; and he may be forgiven if he failed to comprehend quite how the ship could manage to remove himself and his friends even from the tower of a mosque, should the party happen to find themselves in such a position. However, the discussion as to their movements was cut short at the moment. Cries were heard from the street, and the Major soon made an important announcement. "That fellow again!" he cried, in low tones. "He and his followers had run out of sight, and I was in hopes that we had thrown them off the scent. But they are coming back, yes, and numbers have joined them. All the ragtag and bobtail of this terrible city have joined in the search." Dick dived towards the window there to join him, and stood peering out into the street. It was true enough that the man who led these searchers was returning, and true too that others had joined his following. Indeed, some fifty ragged fellows were trailing after that young Turkish officer, whose head was swathed in bandages, and amongst them, immediately in rear of the officer, was no less a person than the sentry whom Dick had accosted at the door of the mosque, and whom he had duped so cleverly. "Jingo!" he cried, turning with a somewhat scared expression upon the company. "They've got to the bottom of the whole business. The chap in advance is the beggar I collided with last night, and I suppose he's anxious to get back these clothes I was compelled to borrow. Then there's the man who was at the guard-house, and who helped to put the Major and the Colonel in prison. Jingo! They're entering the houses on either side and searching them." There was a blank look upon the faces of the forlorn little party. Not that they were frightened, or were likely to submit themselves as prisoners without a struggle. But the outlook was black without a doubt. This mob of Turkish soldiers, dressed in their ragged khaki uniforms, unkempt, undisciplined, capable of any violence now that the only authority over them was represented by a single youthful officer, were searching every corner, and when they came to the house in which Dick and his friends had sheltered they would find the party, would drag them out and then, perhaps, shoot them.