Azza told how he had found the house of Ben Ahmet, and had lingered till he saw one of the sheriff’s servants whom he knew. By the servant he had sent word to Igela, and she had finally appeared at the parapet of the terrace. Then Azza had attached Frank’s note to a small stone, which he had tossed to her. She had read it, had written the reply, and then had instructed Azza to guide Frank to a certain spot that evening, saying she would be there.
Frank was not quite satisfied with this story.
“It is rather remarkable that she could read my note, written in English, and could not write a reply in English,” he said, watching the face of the Arab closely.
“She was much excited,” Azza calmly explained. “She feared much that she might be seen.”
“But that doesn’t explain why she did not write in English.”
“She must have forgotten in her haste and excitement.”
Frank was forced to confess to himself that such a thing would be very natural, but still he questioned Azza. It became evident, after a little, that the Arab was very shrewd or perfectly truthful, and the boy was inclined to think him the latter.
Frank went to his room and pondered over the matter for some time. He realized that by many he would be considered foolish in his attempt to aid this unknown girl.
But his curiosity was thoroughly aroused. He could conceive of no possible way that she could have known him in the past, and yet she had fled to him for assistance, calling him by name.
A mystery of that sort was quite enough to make Frank determined to seek the solution.