"Ben-Ahmed, I told you the truth at first. I do _not_ know where she is hiding. I _did_, indeed, know some time ago, but the place of her abode has been changed, and I do not know now. I may as well however say at once that, if I did know, nothing that you can do would induce me to tell you where she hides. You may imprison, torture, or slay me if you choose, but in regard to Hester Sommers I am from this moment dumb!" There was a curious smile on the Moor's lips while the midshipman delivered this speech with flashing eyes and energetic action, but there was no anger in his tone as he replied-- "Englishman," he said quietly, "you _love_ this girl." If a bombshell had exploded under his feet our middy could hardly have been taken more by surprise. But he had been put on his mettle now, and scorned to show again a wavering front. "Yes, Moor," he replied, "I _do_ love her, though I have never told her so, nor have I the slightest reason to believe that she cares a fig for _me_. But I now tell you plainly that I will take advantage of every opportunity that comes in my way to serve her and help her to escape. I now also recall the promise--the word of honour--I gave you, not to try to escape. There was a time," continued the middy, in a softened tone, "when I thought of recalling this promise with defiance to you to do your worst; but, Ben-Ahmed, I have lived to learn that, after a fashion, you have been kind to me; that I might have fallen into worse hands; therefore I am not ungrateful, and I now recall the promise only with regret. All the same, my resolve is fixed." The curious smile still lingered on the Moor's lips as he said, almost in a jesting tone-- "But you will not try to escape to-day if I let you go into the town for colours?" "I make no promise, Ben-Ahmed. Yet this I may safely say, that I will not try to clear off on my own account. Unless to save Hester I will not at present try to escape; so far you may be sure of my return; but if I get the chance I will either rescue her or die for her--God helping me." The smile vanished from the Moor's lips as he turned, and said gravely-- "It is well, young man, that you confess to the true and only source of all help. You Christians, as you call yourselves, have ever seemed to me unwilling to mention the name of God save when cursing your fellows, and then you misuse it glibly enough. Yet there are some among you who are more consistent in their professions. Go, fulfil your commission. I will trust you." "Thank you, Ben-Ahmed," returned the middy; "but remember, if I never return, you will understand that I have not broken my word of honour." The Moor bowed his head in acquiescence, and took a long pull at his pipe as the midshipman went away.