'No,' was the strange response. 'You must believe either in the Prophet or Christ?' 'I believe in neither.' 'Unhappy wretch!' exclaimed the sheikh, with astonishment in his tone. 'Men may believe in both, yet follow neither.' 'So do the devils believe--and like devils tremble' said the Bedouin. 'Well, I do not.' 'Do you feel no trust in God?' 'None!' was the blunt and defiant reply. 'Why?' 'He has always left me to myself.' Allan sighed at this hopeless response, while the blasphemy of it filled the Bedouin--who, whatever his shortcomings in the way of _meum_ and _tuum_ were, was pious in his way--with horror and indignation. After a pause, he said, 'Look at his eyes--they are grey; and does not the Koran say that on the last day "we shall gather the wicked together having grey eyes." The twentieth chapter certainly has that curious remark, for with the Arabs--a black-eyed race--to have grey eyes is the mark of an enemy or a person to be avoided. 'You knew this man in Frangistan!' said Zeid. 'Too well,' replied Allan. 'Then he has wronged thee?' was the sharp question and suspicion of the Bedouin. 'Deeply; he tried to kill me, indeed.' 'Yet he lives?' 'Yes.' 'Why is this?' 'I thought he was dead--drowned,' replied Allan, evasively. 'Take this sword and smite off his head. The blade is sharp enough.' Allan shook his head and drew back. 'You Franks are fools!' said Zeid, while the miserable Holcroft, though he knew not a word of what passed, guessed the terrible import of it, and glanced imploringly at Allan. 'Do you think,' said Zeid, after a pause, 'that his neck is turned to ivory, as the Koran tells us that of Moses was, when he was about to be beheaded for slaying an Egyptian?' 'The Koran--always that weary Koran!' thought Allan, impatiently. 'Will you tell him,' said Holcroft, 'that, if he expects a ransom from me, I have neither a friend nor a farthing in the world.' Allan did so. 'Liar! may God burn thee!' exclaimed Zeid, as he thought of the diamonds, and, acting in obedience to a sign from him, Abdallah, unknown to Holcroft, was stealing behind him, armed with a heavy and deeply curved Damascus sabre of the keenest edge. There was a flash in the sunshine as the blade was swept round by a swift back-handed stroke, and the head of the miserable Hawke Holcroft rolled along the ground, as his body fell prostrate on it in a heap, with the red blood welling out from every vein and artery of the neck. 'He has met his _kismet_,' said Zeid, complacently. At this sudden catastrophe, Allan turned away horrified--utterly appalled. He had seen men wounded in every way, and mutilated too by shot and shell, but had never seen aught like this--and in cold blood, too! 'He believed neither in the Prophet nor in Christ,' said Zeid, complacently; 'now that he is in hell, that cemetery for lost souls, he may learn the truth.'