"Do I, by George? You Englishmen make a good many mistakes about us Scots, and that's one of them. Besides, I'm only Scotch when I want a stoker's place-or when I let off some of my stories on the fellows in Booker's. I was rather had once, though. When I first went to Tabor's as a little chap, on my first day I dropped my cap somewhere, and asked one of the masters if he'd seen it. I'd just come from our village school up north-a whim of the governor's, you know-and I suppose I'd a touch of the brogue, for when I said, 'Please, sir, have you seen my cap?' he said quite pat, 'Are _you_ MacFarlane?' And he called me MacFarlane until I left."

Abdul had chosen a sheltered hollow, and built a rough canopy of branches and leaves. Beneath this he kindled a fire, and cooked one of the hares The table appointments were not exactly those that either of the lads was accustomed to, but, as Oliphant remarked, they were in a primitive country, and it was not unfitting that they should resort to the manners of their ancestors. Both confessed that they had never enjoyed a meal so much as this, and felt all the more ready for the adventures of the night.

The moon was shedding a cold radiance around, in strange contrast with the hot and sultry air, when the airship with its three pa.s.sengers rose from the foot of the hill and started on its voyage for the kasbah of Ain Afroo. To lessen the chances of premature discovery, Tom ascended to a considerable alt.i.tude, with the intention of dropping obliquely upon the kasbah. He was thus able to dispense in great part with the action of the propellers as the airship drew near to its destination, which was very desirable, seeing that they made a loud whirring which must otherwise have attracted attention. But by ascending to a height of nearly 3,000 feet, and then adjusting the planes so that the airship fell at a sharp angle, he could make use of the force of gravity to carry him in the right direction without employing the horizontal screws. Finding, however, when half the distance had been covered, that the airship was coming too near the ground, he set the vertical screws in motion rose a few hundred feet, and again dropped obliquely towards his objective.

The whole country was bathed in the moon's pale light, and lay in perfect silence save for the faint barking of dogs here and there. The three adventurers said never a word; neither Tom nor Oliphant was in a mood for talking now that the real business of the expedition was so near at hand. It was not until the airship was hovering exactly over the flat roof of the kasbah that they knew, from shouts below, that the strange visitant had been observed. But some moments must elapse, presumably, before the alarm could penetrate to the sheikh's apartments; and, aware that everything depended on his coolness and caution, Tom brought the airship to rest with as much deliberation as if he were landing from a practice voyage.

A shot from a musket struck one of the planes.

"The sentry on the terrace has caught sight of us," said Tom, as he was stepping out of the car. "Let us hope that after having done his duty he'll be sufficiently scared to bolt for the town, instead of coming up to warn the sheikh."

The programme had been settled before they started. Oliphant was to remain in charge of the airship, while Tom and the Moor attempted to get into the house and release the prisoner.

"Remain in the car," said Tom, "and have everything ready to ascend at a moment's notice."

"Wish you good luck, old fellow," returned Oliphant. "You've got your revolver?"

"Yes. _Au revoir!_"

He glanced anxiously round for the opening that led from the roof into the house. In the ordinary way it would not be closed; indeed, during the summer months, except when rain threatened, such openings were seldom covered. Unless the fugitive had the gift of second sight, it was improbable that he would ever have imagined that the airship would descend on the very roof of the sheikh's own dwelling. Thus the inmates would have no reason to guard against intrusion from above. Things might have been different in a populous town, where access could be had from one roof to another. But the kasbah stood quite solitary, and the nearest buildings were inaccessible.

The opening, in point of fact, lay within a few feet of the spot upon which the airship had descended.

Carrying an electric torch in one hand and his revolver in the other, Tom stepped gingerly down the staircase, followed by the Moor, who held his knife ready for instant use. They came across a small vestibule, lit at the far end by the moonlight streaming through a narrow aperture in the wall. To the right and left was a door; one led no doubt to the sheikh's harem, the other probably to the apartments of the male members of the family; but Abdul was unable to say which was which. There were no bolts on the outside of these doors, which were fast shut, but each had a very large keyhole.

Inasmuch as the entry to this part of the house was no doubt barred beneath by a door on the staircase, it was quite possible that the inhabitants felt themselves secure enough to dispense with locking these doors. Certainly a Moor will never take any trouble if he can avoid it.

Choosing the right-hand door, Tom gently turned the handle; the door opened to his push, and, inserting his hand, he discovered, as he had ventured to hope, a heavy key in the lock. He silently withdrew it, closed the door, and turned the key on the outside; Abdul at the same time, taking the cue, did the same with the other door on the left. Both locks squeaked somewhat, and Tom thought he heard voices within. Without waiting, however, to a.s.sure himself on this point-feeling that he had the inmates secure, at least for a time-he pushed on down the stairway, followed by Abdul, and they came, as they had expected, upon a strong door bolted on their side. Tom gently slid the bolts, opened the door, and found himself in a small vestibule. On the far side of this was another door, which the Moor thought was the inner door of the guest-chamber. This Tom expected would be locked on the outside, but when he flashed his torch at it he saw that the bolts were not shot. He turned the handle of the door, which opened outwards. No doubt, he thought, the Moors considered their prisoner quite safe without the necessity of locking him in from this side. Access to the lower quarters being barred, they would not object to his going up to the roof, perhaps, for fresh air. The other door to the right of the guest-chamber leading on to the terrace was securely locked, as Abdul proved by pushing it gently so as to avoid noise.

Tom tiptoed through the door, and cautiously lowering his torch in order to avoid flashing it on any window openings on the far side, swept it round the room. He gave a start of keen disappointment when he found that the place was untenanted. It bore traces of recent occupation, but the occupant, whoever he was, had been removed. There were a couple of bright oriental rugs on the floor, a dish such as the Moors are accustomed to serve sweetmeats on, and one or two other native articles; but on one of the rugs lay a well-browned brier pipe, which was clearly of European origin, and indeed Tom was conscious of the familiar odour of tobacco-a very different smell from that made by the kief or hashish smoked by the Moors. And, strangest contrast of all, a somewhat tattered newspaper, and a bulky volume in a red paper cover, showed that the sheikh's prisoner had certainly inhabited this room, and had found some means of lightening his captivity.

Tom took in these details in a moment. Anxious to further his errand, he did not pause to look at the contents of the room minutely, but hurried across to a door on the farther side, leading, he suspected, to the terrace. This was bolted, but from the inside.

He halted in perplexity. What had become of the prisoner?

"Have they taken him to the upper apartments?" he asked Abdul in a whisper.

"No, master," replied the lad. "No Moor would think of it."

"Do you think he has been released? But no: that is unlikely. Salathiel would certainly not have come so far in that case, would he?"

"No. The mouse does not put his head in the jaws of the lion."

"And the smell of tobacco is quite fresh. I believe the prisoner has only lately been removed. Where would they take him if they feared an attempt at rescue?"

With a significant look Abdul pointed downwards.

"The dungeons, eh? Where are they?"

"Under the ground, master."

"Well, we must get down there if we can. Do you know the way?"

The Moor hesitated. He knew too well the fate of unhappy people who had offended the sheikh, and upon whom the sheikh exercised the power of life and death. Once, in Tangier, he had accompanied a friend to such a dungeon, where his friend's father was confined for denying that he possessed hidden treasure. The man's eyes had been put out, one of his hands had been cut off, and he had languished for years in this loathsome place, where he would have starved but for the food brought him daily by his son, and handed to him through a grating. Abdul had no wish to see the inside of the kasbah's dungeon.

But his hesitation was only momentary. Tom was clearly determined to pursue his object, and the Moor reflected that, whatever he did, he was in parlous danger. Besides, did not everything happen by the will of Allah? If it was decreed that he should die, he would die; if he was doomed to a living death in prison, nothing that he could do would avert his fate. So, with a Moor's habitual fatalism, he told his employer all he knew.

There was doubtless one entrance to the dungeon from the patio beneath, where the jailer occupied a room near the great gateway. But there must also be an entrance from within the house. Below the vestibule in which they then stood was probably another vestibule, dividing the rooms of the servants' apartments. Whether there was any communication between the two vestibules he did not know; perhaps it was from the terrace outside. In all probability the inner entrance to the dungeon was from the vestibule below.

This gave Tom pause. So far he had been unmolested; indeed, it was only a couple of minutes since he had left the roof. But the thought of having to pa.s.s the servants' apartments was decidedly unpleasant. The sentry's shot must have been heard; he wondered why the servants had not already come up to warn or to take orders from the sheikh. Luckily the sheikh himself and all his family were securely locked in their apartments. The menials might at any rate be expected to prove less formidable.

There was no time to be lost. It suddenly occurred to Tom that the floor of the vestibule might have a kind of trapdoor. He pulled aside one of the rugs that covered the stones; there was indeed a trapdoor, not secured in any way. Down he went on hands and knees. Releasing the b.u.t.ton of the electric torch so that the room was in darkness, he lifted the door half an inch, and guessed from the absence of light that the vestibule below was unoccupied. He cautiously raised the covering still farther and listened. There was no sound. He set his foot on a ladder beneath, and, moving so slowly and gently as to make not so much as a rustle, he went down step by step, pausing once or twice to strain his ears. Still there was no sound. When he reached the floor he ventured to flash a light around him. He saw he was in a stone-flagged chamber of equal size with the vestibule above. In the middle of the floor was a circular stone slab with an iron ring on it, and a thick iron bolt was shut into a socket. There was one door to the room, and, hurrying to it, Tom found that it was fastened on the outside.

So far all was well. He softly summoned Abdul to descend. Then, drawing back the bolt and lifting the slab, he discovered a large opening leading to a spiral stone stairway.

Again he hesitated. What lay below? The disappointment of finding the guest-chamber empty, the prolongation of the search, were beginning to tell upon him. But, crushing down his nervous excitement, he extinguished his torch again, and groped his way round and round until he came once more to level ground. All was still as death. A flash of the torch showed him that he was in a large vaulted corridor, paved with brick. Somewhere in this, he doubted not, was the door into the dungeons.

In order to secure his line of retreat in case of emergency, he felt it was absolutely necessary first to secure the other entrance, wherever it might be, that was ordinarily used by the jailer. He soon discovered it by the aid of his torch. Here, as he feared, the bolts were on the outside, and the door was securely fastened. Was it possible to barricade the door from the inside? The whole place was empty with the exception of a number of manacles and like effects, and a long hammer, which Abdul said, in a whisper, was used by the Moorish jailers in fastening the chains round their victims' ankles. But there was nothing that promised to be of service as a barricade.

At any moment the jailer, if he had not taken panic from the discharge of the sentry's musket, might enter to a.s.sure himself of the security of his prisoners. Could anything be done to delay him? For Tom felt that it was not only a question of the jailer, but of others who would no doubt hasten to his a.s.sistance.

Flashing his torch round, Tom noticed that the flooring had been worn and chipped away, no doubt in the process of manacling, and scattered about there was a large quant.i.ty of loose particles of brick. An idea struck him. He collected a big handful of these fragments and pushed them into the keyhole. Then, leaving Abdul to complete the work, which would, he hoped, cause the lock to stick, he hastened down the vaulted pa.s.sage.

CHAPTER XI-PRISON BREAKERS

Tom found himself in a long broad alley-way, flanked by arches. There was no sign of the dungeons, apparently no means of exit. The air was damp and heavy, and the first indication that he was approaching the neighbourhood of the dungeons was afforded by his nose. Coming at length to a narrow flight of steps leading downwards, the fact that he was nearing the object of his quest was borne in upon his sense with ever-increasing pungency.

"Surely," he thought, "the sheikh is not such a beast as to herd Ingleton with the ordinary criminals!"

Another alley-way, apparently underneath the one from which he had come, was disclosed by his electric torch when he reached the bottom of the staircase; but in this case there were doors at his right, and in the thickness of the wall, Moorish fashion, little peep-holes, through which no doubt the warder could spy upon the movements of the captives within.

Which was the door leading to the place of the envoy's confinement? Tom wondered. Was he indeed imprisoned here at all? Tom gave no thought to the predicament in which Abdul and he would be placed if it should prove that they had gone astray; his whole mind was centred on the plight of the English prisoner and the terrible misfortune it would be if he were elsewhere, and deep within him burned a fierce indignation that any countryman of his should be even within hailing distance of so noisome a place as this kasbah dungeon.

So anxious was he to know whether he was on the right track that, scarcely giving a thought to possible consequences, he lifted up his voice and shouted the name of the man for whom he was seeking. The loud tones went rolling beneath the arches, answered by a hundred echoes. But there was a nearer and more material answer. By the light of his torch, which he kept constantly in use, Tom saw a big, bearded, spectacled face appear at the aperture nearest to him on the right.

"Ach! Gott in Himmel! Vas zat English voice?"

Tom himself was in shadow, but his light fell full on the face of the speaker, and with a gasp of amazement he recognized Herr Hildebrand Schwab, the representative of the Schlagintwerts, who had called on him at Midfont months before and showed such a consuming curiosity to know the use to which he put the Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six. And with a sudden flash of recollection he remembered that Schwab had spoken of proceeding to Morocco on business. Coming out from beneath the arch in which he stood, and holding his torch before him, he approached the aperture. His appearance was hailed by a groan. Schwab did not recognize him in his Moorish dress. Deeply he groaned again, muttering-

"Ach, Ich Unglucklicher!"

His face, utterly woebegone in expression, was just disappearing within the cell when Tom, almost frantic with despair at the thought that the white prisoner was not the man he had come to seek after all, shouted again-

"Ingleton! Sir Mark Ingleton! Are you there?"