"Hilmi Bey!" she rapped.
The Levantine bowed before her.
"If you spoil this play," she said coldly, "I will kill you with my own hand. Keep out of what concerns your betters, pig!"
He cringed to her, and would have answered. But she silenced him with a wave of the hand.
"There has been enough of this," she went on. "Mr. Nash, do you join with your friends in refusing to give up your secret?"
I nodded.
"Very well," she answered, "we will leave you to think it over. If you are wise, you will understand that having blundered into this trap—as you must have blundered sooner or later—the best you can hope for is life in exchange for what we want. I cannot continue to save you from the cruelty of those of us who relish brutal measures. There is a limit to my patience, too. I advise you to make intelligent use of the next twenty-four hours. You cannot be saved. Your friends cannot reach you. The authorities cannot intervene. If they did, you would disappear. You have twenty-four hours more."
They took all the lanterns, except one, and went out, locking the door after them.