"Let them go on," she cried. "They would not take my advice. Now they will find that we have beaten them by a good five minutes." Stump knew quite well, of course, that a broad-beamed English boat could not compete with the long, slim Somali craft, but he was aware also that Miss Fenshawe and Royson wished to land in company. So he grinned, and sat down again. The outcome of these cross purposes was curious in many ways. As Mrs. Haxton foresaw, the jolly-boat was forbidden to land at the main wharf, and Royson discovered that the Austrian did not understand Italian. It was Irene who translated the orders shouted at them by a brigandish-looking soldier, and they had to pull off in the direction of a smaller pier where Mrs. Haxton and Captain Stump had already disembarked in the midst of a crowd of jabbering natives. "Now, captain," said Mrs. Haxton, with her sweetest smile, pointing to a white building in the distance, "that is the telegraph-office. We need not both remain here until our friends arrive. Suppose you go and send your cablegram in peace. By the time you have written it we shall be close behind you. Pray don't wait on my account. You see I want to crow over Miss Fenshawe." "Just as you like, ma'am," said Stump, lifting his cap awkwardly. He went at the noisy mob like a battering-ram. "Sheer off, you black-an'-tan mongrels!" he roared at them. "Go an' ax some one to play on you with a hose-pipe. Jow, you soors! D'ye think the lady likes to be pisened?" He cleared a space, and rolled away towards the town. Hence, he did not notice a gaunt Arab, whose flowing burnous and distinguished air singled him out from the mixed gathering of nondescripts at the landing-place, who bided his time until Mrs. Haxton looked in his direction. Then he salaamed, with a courtly blend of deference and hauteur, and she beckoned him instantly. "You are Sheikh Abdullah?" she asked in French. "Yes, madam," he replied, in the same language. "You know the town well?" "I have been waiting here two months." "Then two more hours will not weary you. Von Kerber Effendi, or I, or both of us, will meet you outside the Elephant Mosque at five o'clock. Nevertheless, should there be others with us, do not speak unless we address you." "Who is he, the red ox?" demanded the Arab, gazing after the broad figure of Captain Stump. "He is the captain of our ship, a man of no importance. The Hakim Effendi is in the approaching boat. With him is Fenshawe Effendi, the old, gray-haired man. There is a tall young ship's officer there, too. His name is Royson--you will not forget?--Royson. He is dangerous. Regard him well. He might prove troublesome, or useful--I hardly know which at present. Fenshawe Effendi speaks French and Arabic, Royson Effendi French only. That is all, for the present. Leave me now." "Adieu, madame. A cinq heures!"