"I have, but he treated me like a kid. Told me to run away and play and allow serious people to work. I stormed a bit, but it was no use. It made him so angry that he nearly took a fit—and I had to leave. Since then he has been shut up with his infernal mummy, in that cave temple over there—and he won't even let his daughter go within yards of the door. That's curious, isn't it?"
"Very."
"And there's that business about the mysterious Arab," went on the Captain. "The ugly horror that tried to throttle you and has been frightening Miss Ottley. She thinks it's a ghost. But I reckon not."
"Ah!"
"I reckon Sir Robert knows all about that Arab, though he pretends he does not know. In my opinion it's another of those spook mediums of his, and he is keeping the ugly beast hidden away somewhere. Probably the fellow is some awful criminal who has got to hide. Sir Robert would shelter Hill or even that Australian wife-murderer Deeming if he said he was a medium."
"You extend my mental horizon," I remarked. "The Arab mystery is clearing up."
The Captain simply beamed. "So glad you catch on," he said. "Do you know, I am depending heaps upon you in this business."
"How?"
The monosyllable disconcerted the Captain. He stuttered and hawed for a while. But, finally, he blurted out, "Well, you see, she won't leave her father under existing circumstances on any account, that's the trouble. But I'm hoping if we can convince the old man he is being fooled by a pack of scoundrels he will return to his sober senses and live Sensibly, and then——" he paused.
"And then—wedding bells," I suggested.