The short, thick Arab, who had been in command of Wad Ibrahim’s rearguard, had joined the Emir and the Moolah; the three consulted together, with occasional oblique glances towards the prisoners. Then the Emir spoke to Mansoor.
“The chief wishes to know which of you four is the richest man?” said the dragoman. His fingers were twitching with nervousness and plucking incessantly at the front of his covercoat.
“Why does he wish to know?” asked the Colonel.
“I do not know.”
“But it is evident,” cried Monsieur Fardet. “He wishes to know which is the best worth keeping for his ransom.”
“I think we should see this thing through together,” said the Colonel. “It’s really for you to decide, Stephens, for I have no doubt that you are the richest of us.”
“I don’t know that I am,” the lawyer answered; “but in any case, I have no wish to be placed upon a different footing to the others.”
The Emir spoke again in his harsh rasping voice.
“He says,” Mansoor translated, “that the baggage-camels are spent, and that there is only one beast left which can keep up. It is ready now for one of you, and you have to decide among yourselves which is to have it. If one is richer than the others, he will have the preference.”
“Tell him that we are all equally rich.”