"I am taking a grave step, signora," he said, "but I feel that the peculiar circumstances warrant it. I have released the Baron von Kerber. He is now awaiting you, and it will give me much pleasure to conduct you to your carriage. Yet I pray you give earnest heed to me. I have told him what I now tell you--this undertaking of yours must be abandoned. Not only is it my duty to prevent it at all costs, but an expedition starts for the Five Hills this very night. So, you see, you are sure to fail in any case. The exact locality is known, and Signor Alfieri has an armed escort. I repeat, you have failed. May I hope, without being rude, that your love affairs may be more prosperous. Charming woman that you are, I cannot compliment you on either of your present suitors. My advice is, go back to England, and help me tomorrow in persuading Signor Fenshawe to let matters rest where they are." As one walking in a dream, Mrs. Haxton accompanied Marchetti to the courtyard. There she found von Kerber, who ran to meet her. "So it is you," he cried in English. "I guessed it, though they would tell me nothing." The Governor was most polite. He would not lecture them, before natives. "I have spoken as a friend, to-night," he murmured. "To-morrow I shall be an official once more." The alabeeyah rattled across the paved square towards the gateway. Alfieri, on whom an officer kept an eye, watched it with malevolence from an upper window. "There go two people whom I hate," he said to his guardian. "They have escaped me this time. When I am rich, rich as any king in Europe, I shall have a king's power. Then I shall find them and crush them utterly." The driver swung his horses towards the sea front. "No, no," cried Mrs. Haxton. "Go through the bazaar. Drive slowly." And, in the next breath, she explained to von Kerber: "We must find Abdullah. He is somewhere in the main street. Above all things, we must find Abdullah. Alfieri leaves Massowah tonight, and he is making for the Five Hills. Our only hope lies with Abdullah." CHAPTER XII STUMP DEPENDS ON OBSERVATION After eight hours of dreamless sleep, Irene awoke to a torpid but blissful conviction that bed is a most comfortable place when bones ache and the slightest movement is made irksome by patches of chafed skin. In fact, having buried her hands gingerly in the wealth of brown hair that streamed over the pillow, she lay and watched the white planks of the deck overhead, wondering idly what time it was. The effort to guess the hour brought her a stage nearer complete consciousness. Her first precise recollection was also pleasant. She thought of the way in which Royson had carried her in his arms not so many hours earlier, and the memory banished all others for many minutes.