A small but handsome private yacht, under full head of steam, was making
its swift course up the Nile.
In the tiny, Orientally furnished cabin of this yacht, Miguel Bunol
stood with his feet wide apart, his hands in his pockets, puffing at a
cigarette and triumphantly regarding a cowering, pale-faced, red-eyed
girl.
Bunol's manner was insolent and self-satisfied in the extreme. He felt
that he was master of the situation at last and his heart beat high with
exultation.
Nadia glanced at him in terror. She had crept as far from him as
possible.
"I am greatly sorry to cause you such vast distress," said the young
Spaniard, with pretended regret.
Her lips curled.
"You, sorry!" she exclaimed chokingly.
"No doubt you do not believe me, but it is true, my dear--I swear it is
true."
Her eyes began to flash.
"You know you are lying, you monster!"
"At least," he retorted, with a dark smile, "your spirit is not broken,
and I like that. You made such a terrible disturbance, and you did weep
so much that I feared you would not have any spirit left. I admire the
girl of spirit, and for the one who cows and whimpers, like a whipped
puppy, I have but little regard."
She was silent, but scorn and loathing continued to gleam in her eyes.
"I regret to the exceeding limit that we felt it necessary to pursue the
course we did, but we dared not wait longer."
"We? You mean yourself."
"There is another concerned."
"What other?"
"My friend, Medjid Bey. He is the owner of this yacht."
"A Turk! A worthy comrade!"
"Medjid Bey is a Turkish gentleman of high rank. He stands high in the
regard of the sultan."
"I am glad to know the name of your accomplice in this dastardly piece
of business."
"Oh, you will know him far better before this affair is over. He is a
splendid fellow. Only for that, at this moment you might be under
arrest, and on your way back to Damascus, or to Constantinople."
She betrayed her total disbelief in the words of Bunol.
"I give you the assurance of a gentleman that I speak the truth," he
bowed.
"The assurance of a gentleman!" she exclaimed. "A fine gentleman! A
gambler, a scheming scoundrel!"
"You misjudge me greatly, Nadia. You have never understood me. From the
first I took a friendly interest in your brother. I knew his weaknesses,
and I tried----"
"You tried to ruin him! You got him into your power by drugging him. The
drug you gave him made him the slave of drink, and you did not permit
its effect to wear off. When it seemed about to wear off, you gave him
more of the drug. Friendly interest! You were making him a drunkard!"
"It is useless to argue with a girl. Women do not reason. What they
believe they believe, without sense or judgment."
"I believe what I know. You had Dunbar in your grip, in London. Since
then he has never been himself. His spirit is broken and his courage
gone."
"Surely he lacks courage, else he would not have deserted you to-day. He
ran away in the most cowardly manner when we appeared. It was our
intention to take him along with you. I thought you would feel better
about it if you had him for company."
Nadia felt a twinge of shame for her brother, who had displayed the
white feather in the most pitiful manner.
The account of the affair, as given by Budthorne to Merriwell and
Buckhart, was true with the single exception of Dunbar's statement that
he had defended Nadia until struck down. This part of the story he had
founded on Dick's experience in defense of the girl in Damascus. His
befuddled and unimaginable brain had been incapable of devising a
different yarn.
"No wonder he fears you, Miguel Bunol!" panted the girl. "He has every
reason to fear you."
"That is no excuse for his cowardly conduct. No brave man ever deserts a
lady in time of peril."
"Perhaps you think yourself competent to judge a brave man?" she
sneered. "Perhaps you really believe yourself brave?"
"I know what I am! but, with your brother concerned, I wish to make no
unpleasant comparisons."
"How kind of you! You are such a gallant gentleman!"
Her scorn was scorching, but he declined to be touched by it. Coolly he
lighted a fresh cigarette.
"Where is the master of this boat?" she suddenly demanded, half starting
up. "I demand to see him!"
"All in good time, my dear. You shall see him soon."
"Now! He must listen to me! He must explain his conduct! You have
deceived him! You have lied to him! He cannot realize what he is doing!"
"You are wholly mistaken, I assure you. Medjid Bey understands quite
perfectly what he is doing."
"It is unlawful! It is a crime!"
"He has learned of a certain crime that was lately committed in
Damascus."
"You mean----"
"I speak of the murder of Hafsa Pasha, a countryman of Medjid Bey."
"How does that concern me?"
"You know you are concerned. In Damascus it is said an American
adventuress ensnared Hafsa Pasha, and her friends killed him."
"Which is a wretched story to hide the truth that Hafsa Pasha brutally
seized and imprisoned an American girl. The story is told to shield the
Pasha in case the affair should be too closely investigated."
"Perhaps so; but you know by experience that the people of Damascus
believe it, for you were compelled to flee from the city in disguise to
escape the enraged Moslems. Had you fallen into the hands of that mob
you would have been torn limb from limb."
"Still you--fine gentleman that you are--threatened to deliver me over,
and, to prevent you, Dick Merriwell and Brad Buckhart seized, bound and
gagged you and fastened you in a closet of the German hotel!"
"My dear Nadia, I had no thought of permitting you to fall into the
hands of the mob; but I did wish to bring those fool boys to terms by
frightening them."
"You found them boys you could not frighten."
"They are young idiots! They do not know enough to be afraid!"
"You followed us after we escaped from the city."
"And overtook you, too, aided by the Bedouins I engaged."
"You did not overtake Dunbar and me."
"But I did overtake Merriwell, Buckhart and that old fool professor."
"Yes. Then you had Dick Merriwell stripped and were on the point of
having him cruelly whipped. You threatened to have him sold into slavery
in Arabia."
"Which would have been his fate only for the unlucky appearance of that
old devil of a sheik, Ras al Had. He turned up with his followers at the
wrong moment."
"At the right moment!" cried Nadia. "The whipping you intended for
Merriwell you received yourself."
Bunol's face flushed.
"Yes," he said, in a low, fierce tone. "The scars are on my back, and I
shall bear them to the grave."
"Retribution!"
"The end is not yet. I have sworn to make Merriwell suffer, even as I
suffered!"
"That shows your true nature and the blackness of your heart, for it was
not Dick Merriwell that caused you to be whipped. Ras al Had was the
one. Dick interfered, or you would have been lashed until you fainted."
"Why did he interfere? I know! It was because he feared I would be so
weakened by the punishment that I would not be able to stand the journey
to Arabia. He left me with those Bedouins, who were commanded to take me
out of Syria and sell me into slavery in Arabia. He intended that I
should perish a wretched slave of black men."
"Which was the fate you had chosen for him and would have forced on him,
only for the fortunate coming of the sheik. Do you never think that
there is such a thing as retributive justice? I shuddered and was sorry
for you when I learned what had happened. But now--now my only regret is
that you escaped!"
"Well, I did escape, and I am here--to wreak vengeance on Merriwell!"
"And it was Ras al Had who commanded the Bedouins to carry you into
captivity, not Merriwell. Merriwell did not know of the sheik's order
until he was far away and it was impossible for him to do anything."
"He has told you that, but he lied! He urged old Ras al Had to do it! I
know him, for did he not try to murder me in the tent of the Bedouin
chief?"
"When you had goaded him beyond endurance by your taunts and your
threats of whipping and slavery. You thought he would not touch you,
because he has wonderful command of his temper; but you found out your
mistake when he fastened his hands on your throat."
"He told you of that? He boasted of it?"
"Never a word of it have I received from him. Brad Buckhart told me."
"That fellow? Well, what I have in store for him is only second to what
shall befall Merriwell. I was not carried into captivity. I am here, and
I have struck a blow. The end will come soon."
"How you escaped I do not know, but----"
"I will tell you. I know many Turks of influence. I have had dealings
with the Turkish secret police, and----"
"Through your lies the secret police compelled Dick, Brad and Professor
Gunn to leave Constantinople," interrupted Nadia.
The Spaniard smiled in a satisfied manner.
"I think the information I furnished led to their being warned to leave
the city," he bowed. "Let me go on. Knowing a number of Turkish
gentlemen of rank, I was able to impress old Ali Beha, the chief of the
Bedouins, who had been commanded to sell me into slavery. I saw my only
hope was to bribe and frighten the ignorant old chief into releasing me.
That was no simple matter, for Ali Beha feared the sheik, Ras al Had.
However, all the wires I worked as best I knew how. I talked to Ali Beha
and told him how, if my Turkish friends ever learned what had happened,
they would be furious and seek to have him punished. I told him that Ras
al Had was now an outcast, having slain Hafsa Pasha. I told him he was
aiding the accomplices of Ras al Had to escape, which would enrage the
sultan when he learned what had taken place. I offered bribes and made
promises. Ali Beha seemed immovable, and I was in despair.
"Think of me, a helpless captive, believing I was doomed to slavery in
burning Arabia! The thought of such a fate maddened me. I nearly lost my
reason. At times I raved and prayed. But through it all I kept saying I
would live to be revenged on Dick Merriwell."
"It was the fate you first devised for him," said the girl, "and your
suffering was your punishment."
Bunol snapped his fingers.
"Whenever I recovered from those fits of despair," he continued,
"something seemed to whisper in my ear that there was yet hope and that
I would not become a slave. I did not know Ali Beha had sent two of his
men on fleet horses to Damascus to investigate my statements; but this
was what he had done. He waited for those men to return. They came back
in time, and they informed him that it was true that Ras al Had had
become an outcast, having slain Hafsa Pasha on account of an old score.
They also told the sheik that they had found I was known to the Turks I
had claimed as my friends.
"Then Ali Beha's manner toward me underwent a change. I was no longer a
captive. He escorted me to the nearest village and set me free. From
that village I made all haste to reach the port of Akka, believing
Merriwell would take flight from Syria as soon as he could. I did hope
he would be detained; but at Akka I soon discovered he had found a way
to get off in a steamer for Alexandria. Fortunately for him, news
travels slowly in Syria, and the officials had not learned that he was
suspected of having something to do with the murder of Hafsa Pasha.
Either that was the case, or the Turks, knowing he had not really
committed the crime, were willing that he should get away. The latter
supposition may be the truth. I confess that I am half inclined to so
regard it. Later I will explain why.
"Well, I followed to Alexandria, and from that port I traced Merriwell
to Cairo. Arriving at Cairo, I met Medjid Bey. He had been cruising in
his own yacht, on which we now are. It happened that I had met Medjid
Bey before in Syria, where I did him a special favor, which he had not
forgotten. I lost no time in telling him all that had happened in Syria.
He was interested. I could not keep watch of you and your friends
without running great risks of detection. He agreed to watch you."
"And he is the man who annoyed me so much!"
"Exactly, my dear. He informed me that you had observed him and grown
suspicious of him. While he was watching you we had sent word to
Damascus that Merriwell and Buckhart, the two American boys who were
present when Hafsa Pasha was slain, had been located in Cairo. We waited
for Turkish officials to come to arrest them.
"But I found Merriwell was growing restless. I feared he would somehow
learn that I was near. In case he did so learn, it was likely he would
take flight. I have had some experience in following him, and I know he
is most baffling. He vanishes like a shadow, and he seems to leave no
track behind. Besides, my dear, I did not mean to lose you again. Then I
finally induced Medjid Bey to carry out a little scheme at the first
opportunity. The opportunity came to-day, while you were out walking
with your brother. We seized you, and it was our intention to take your
brother also, but he fled. Now you know why you are brought here."
"I don't know!" cried Nadia passionately. "I don't understand! What can
you hope to accomplish?"
"I can keep Merriwell from taking flight. He will follow you. In Cairo
it is dangerous to strike; but in the wild country up the Nile I shall
be able to wreak vengeance on him. The very fact that no officers were
sent to arrest him made me determine to strike the blow myself. The
officers might have reached here ere this, and so I reason that the
Turkish government is glad to have him out of the country."
Nadia regarded the man with increased loathing and hatred.
"In the end you will meet your just deserts!" she cried.
"In the end I will have you, and the enemies I hate shall be swept from
the face of the earth. Somewhere up this river the end of the struggle
must come. After that, you and I will hasten away to some better land.
Your brother shall be spared, and we'll take him with us. In time you
will learn to admire the man who never rested until he had crushed his
enemies."
"Admire you? You are insane to fancy such a thing! I despise you! I
loathe you! To me you are like a venomous serpent! Had I ever
entertained for you a spark of pity, you have quenched it. Where is this
man Medjid Bey? Let me talk to him."
"As you like," said Bunol, lifting his eyebrows and shrugging his
shoulders. "It will give you no satisfaction. I will send him here."
Bowing gracefully, he retired from the cabin.
After a moment Nadia started up, a wild light in her eyes. She faltered
a bit, then swiftly crossed to leave the cabin. The man she had so often
seen watching her in Cairo entered and blocked her path.
"You--you are Medjid Bey?" she breathed.
"That is my name, lady."
"You own this yacht?"
"The _Kayala_ is mine."
"Do you know what you are doing?"
"I think so."
"You are committing a crime! I have never harmed you. I am a helpless
girl. You look like a gentleman. I appeal to your manhood, your honor!
Before it is too late, turn back and set me free. Have no part in this
wicked deed. Bunol has lied to you. He has led you to think he has been
wronged. It is false! He is a scoundrel of the blackest dye, and he has
committed all the wrongs. My brother is back there in Cairo. He will be
distracted. My friends are there. They will be pained. Take me
back--please take me back! I beg--I entreat----"
She fell on her knees, seeking to clasp his hands.
"My dear lady, I beg you rise. It pains me to see you thus distressed."
"You will listen? You will take me back to my friends?"
"I will take it into consideration. In the meantime do not fear for your
personal safety. No harm shall befall you while you are on the _Kayala_.
I give you my word. Do nothing rash, but wait and trust."
He was anxious to get away, and he bowed low once more, hastening from
the cabin.
Nadia fell at full length on the floor.
"Heaven protect me!" she moaned. "He will do nothing, and I am in the
power of Miguel Bunol!"