Nadia Budthorne had wept until the fount of tears seemed dry. She had
beaten with her hands against the heavy door of her prison room until
her knuckles streamed blood. She had shouted and screamed until she sank
exhausted to the floor.
How much time had passed she knew not. When a tray of food was slipped
into the room she had no knowledge of the occurrence. She first saw it
on the floor near the door, but not a morsel did she touch.
She lay prone and helpless and despairing when a rustling sound startled
and aroused her. She rose swiftly on one hand, and then a cry of
astonishment escaped her pale lips, for before her stood a beautiful
girl. Behind the stranger the door was silently closing.
"Who--who--are--you?" asked Nadia hoarsely.
"Your friend," was the answer, in a softly sympathetic voice.
"Friend? You are a stranger."
"Still I am your friend. Let me help you."
"Your voice!" muttered Nadia. "It seems familiar, somehow, and yet--I've
never seen you before."
The strange girl assisted Nadia to rise, and led her to a couch. She was
much larger than Nadia, and seemed somewhat older.
"My poor child!" she murmured. "How you have suffered!"
"Oh, how I have suffered!" moaned Nadia. "But why are you here? I do not
understand it. You--you are English or American. You cannot be----"
"Hush! Do not speak so loud."
"No one can hear us. I have screamed until I lost my voice. These
terrible walls smother all sounds."
The strange girl was looking around searchingly. Leaving Nadia, she made
a quick circuit of the room, searching the walls with her eyes. She
paused to try the door and then returned to the couch.
"Listen," she whispered, lifting her finger warningly. "Keep your nerve
now. Do not utter a cry. I am here to save you."
Nadia showed her incredulity.
"To save me?" she whispered back. "How can that be? Who are you?"
"One of your best friends."
"I will not believe it! It is another trick!"
"It is no trick, as far as you are concerned. It may be a trick on Hafsa
Pasha."
"Then he----"
"You are his captive."
"I knew it! The monster! If my brother--if Brad and Dick find this out
he shall suffer!"
"If you promise to do just as I direct I will save you from that man."
"How can you? You are only a woman."
"That's what I appear to be."
"You cannot be more than nineteen."
"Younger than that," was the reply. "Still I will save you."
"It's impossible! They brought you here to deceive me!"
"That's correct. Old Hafsa did it himself, but he is the one deceived.
To-night he paid a handsome price for me, with the idea of adding me to
his harem. Oh, I must laugh! I must! Where's my handkerchief! Let me
smother the sound!"
The strange girl stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth and laughed
until her face was fairly purple. Her whole body shook with merriment.
Nadia's bewilderment increased.
"I don't know why you laugh. It's a fearful thing to be imprisoned in a
harem. Hafsa Pasha has bought you, and you must submit to him. You must
be a faithful wife, imprisoned within a harem."
"Oh, a fine old wife I'll make!" chuckled the other. "Oh, dear! It's a
mighty dangerous lark, but it's awful funny, just the same."
Suddenly Nadia clutched her companion's shoulder.
"Tell me who you are!" she commanded.
"All right. Keep your nerve. Don't utter a sound. Are you ready?"
Nadia nodded.
"I am Dick Merriwell."
The girl almost fainted.
"Dick?" she gasped--"Dick? Impossible! Yet--yet I believe you--you are!
Why, how----"
"Can't explain in full. Fooled old Hafsa. If Ras al Had does not fail me
we'll have you out of this before morning. If Hafsa only knew----"
A sound behind him caused Dick to turn and spring up.
The door had opened to admit Hafsa Pasha himself, and his face was
contorted with rage. He glared at Dick.
"So you did fool me, did you?" he snarled. "You thought I could not hear
your words, but there is a place in this wall where a person listening
outside may hear and understand the softest whisper spoken here. You
deceived me, but it will cost you your life!"
He drew a knife.
From some part of his clothes Dick Merriwell whipped forth a heavy
revolver, which he leveled at the Turk's heart.
"Halt right where you are!" he commanded clearly. "Another step and I'll
drill a hole through your dastardly heart! I came prepared for any
emergency."
Hafsa Pasha uttered a cry. It was answered somewhere outside the room.
But at that moment there came from a distant portion of the house the
sound of heavy, crashing blows.
The Turk turned pale.
"What's that?" he gasped.
"I have an idea it is Ras al Had," said Dick. "Stop! Stand in your
tracks! Try to leave the room and I'll drop you!"
The noise ended in one great crash. Then came the soft shuffle of many
unbooted feet.
"Hither, sheik!" cried Dick.
There was a struggle outside, smothered cries, a fall. Then Ras al Had,
backed by several black men, together with Brad Buckhart and Dunbar
Budthorne, appeared at the door.
"Still safe, boy?" said the old Arab. "I dared not wait. I had located
the maiden's prison, and I sent one of my servants to bring her friends
from the hotel. Then the carriage came, and I saw you enter, accompanied
by him. I feared longer delay would be fatal for you. We broke down the
door. It seems that we entered just in time."
Hafsa Pasha was yellow with rage.
"You old scum of the desert!" he cried. "You are behind it all! It is
your trick!"
"I have not forgotten the fate of my brother, Pasha. His blood still
cries aloud for vengeance."
"I'll send you to join him!"
The Turk had held the drawn knife hidden at his side. Now he made a
pantherish leap toward the sheik and struck with the weapon.
Ras al Had threw up his arm. The blade was driven through the muscles of
the forearm, but with a sweep the Arab sent Hafsa Pasha reeling.
At the same time he unsheathed his sword.
When the Turk recovered and sprang forward again he was met by the
sheik, who drove the keen sword straight through Hafsa Pasha's body.
Brad Buckhart had reached Nadia, and she fainted in his arms.