"I think you know what I mean," retorted Osip, "but we will camp in the Desert, where there will be a wide space round us, and no one can come within ear-shot without being seen. Come." He led the way towards the sandy track, beckoning to a picturesquely attired waiter to follow. Clarice cast a look in the direction of Anthony, who was watching at his tent door, and followed. In a short space of time, the sham Arab attendant--he was a Bavarian--had spread a carpet, and had arranged pillows. He also placed a Turkish stool in the middle, and waited for orders. The scarred man reclined on one set of pillows, and signalled to Clarice that she should recline on the other, which she did. "Will you have some Turkish coffee and a narghile?" he asked; "we must be strictly Eastern here, you know." Clarice accepted, although she secretly doubted if she could smoke a narghile, and shortly the attendant brought them what was wanted. Then he went away, and Miss Baird found herself smoking and drinking in company with a scoundrel who had killed eight people. She shivered again, as the waiter retreated, and they were left comparatively alone. Osip noticed it. "Is it the cold air, or my company?" he asked, jeeringly. "Your company," said Clarice, tartly. "Oh, then, like doesn't draw to like. I should think after what you have done, Mr. Baird, you would be less scrupulous." "You dare to accuse me of murdering--" "Ta! Ta! Ta! Don't let us have any heroics, please. Do you think that if I did not hold your life in my hand I would risk being here with you, and so running the chance of capture. We are in the same boat, Mr. Baird, and if I am hanged for murder, you will swing beside me, I promise you." It took all Clarice's self-control to keep herself quiet. After all, Ferdy really was guilty of murder, and she had only to learn how he had contrived to escape from the locked room. Osip apparently knew all about it, and she impatiently awaited his recital. But had she not been masked, he would have observed the pallor of her face, and perhaps his suspicions would have been aroused. As it was, he quite believed her to be her brother, and talked on leisurely. Owing to their solitary position, no one could approach within hearing distance, without being seen by the watchful Osip. "Of course I know why you did murder him," said Osip, in a low and rapid voice, "that is, you were coerced. But what power has Jerce over you to make you commit such a crime?" "Jerce!" Clarice dropped the snaky twist of her narghile. This was the last name she expected to hear. "Yes," snapped Osip, imperiously. "Oh, you needn't try to hide his doings. Ever since Frank Clarke betrayed me on his death-bed--the scoundrel--I have been watching Jerce." "But why did you search him?" asked Clarice, perplexed.