“But Nadia,” questioned Brad; “what became of her?”
“I was stunned for the time,” said Dunbar. “When I recovered the men were gone and she had disappeared. I ran about aimlessly, but something guided me to the river. I saw them in a boat that was rowing off to a small yacht. I saw them lift my sister from the boat over the rail into the yacht. Steam was up. The yacht hoisted anchor and away it went up the river. All this time I was running up and down the bank, trying to hire some one to take me off to the yacht in a boat. No one would. And when the yacht was far up the river I turned and came back here as fast as I could. Oh, Nadia—poor Nadia! How can we save her?”
CHAPTER XXVIII—IN BUNOL’S POWER
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.