Adventure stories; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Kidnapping -- Fiction; Love stories
"Thus!" said the Moor, and flung his arms round Miller's elbows and
smothered his lips upon his breast, while Landon, laughing a queer,
excited laugh, snatched up a garment from the dismal heap on the floor,
tore off a liberal patch, and deftly wound it in gag-wise between the
prisoner's teeth. Shackled with ragged waist-cloths at ankle and wrist,
the gray figure was lowered down the steps into the darkness. Muhammed
spoke rapidly and incisively for the space of a minute to the Jew, who
listened in impassive silence. Then, with a last commanding gesture, the
Moor opened the door and went out again alone into the swiftly falling
dusk.
CHAPTER XVII
MUHAMMED SCORES TWICE
Muhammed's steps were bent away from the town towards the row of
dilapidated hovels which fringe the bank of sand below the nearer
blockhouse. And he walked quickly; there was definite purpose and no
sign of hesitation in his stride. He came to a halt before a dwelling,
half burrow, half barn, round the entrance of which were clustered half
a dozen ragged figures.
The Moor's face was dark in the shadow of his _haik_ hood, but he
appeared to need no introduction. He raised a finger and beckoned. One
of the lounging figures rose grudgingly and drew aside with him.
"I have it from Yakoob, Signor Luigi, that you leave to-morrow. That
must be altered. It may be necessary to make a start to-night."
The other raised a dark Italian face towards the Moor and eyed him
questioningly. He shrugged his shoulders.
"I have no charter from Yakoob," he said. "I return home to Salicudi--to
await the sponge-fishing season. I need a holiday; this contraband
running frets the nerves, do you see? I wish to forget the need of
having eyes--and a telescope--at the back of one's head."
For a moment Muhammed was silent, debating, as it seemed, something in
which memory or experience gave him no assistance.
"Salicudi?" he questioned.
"In the Lipari group," said the other, laconically. "My home."
"An island?" said the Moor. "And your home? What is it? A house--a
hut--a castle? Give me particulars. My chiefest need would be privacy.
Can you guarantee it?"
The Italian pondered.
"You flee from--what?" he demanded.
"From a curiosity which still seems to dog my footsteps," said the Moor,
drily. "Let it be sufficient for you to know that with three friends I
desire to vanish from Melilla to-night. We might find it convenient to
remain temporarily on Salicudi. It depends on your neighbors' thirst for
information and your capabilities of defeating it."
Signor Luigi gave an expressive and contemptuous wave of the hand.
"On Salicudi are six families--cousins of mine, all of them. I and my
brother Sandro alone possess boats or money. The others work for us and
are fed. We do not encourage them to think; they do not tire their
magnificent brains except under our direction."
Muhammed nodded appreciatively.
"The priest?" he suggested.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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