“We must hasten. You must be far from here when day comes.”
Across the court they hurried, passed through another door and another passage, and came at last to a door that let them out upon the street.
They had seen no one—not even a sleeping servant. Fortunate, indeed, had they been, and Frank felt that Providence had smiled on them.
“You are free,” whispered Igela, with something like a sob. “Go! We shall never meet again. Leave Tangier without delay. Ben Ahmet has the sultan’s favor, and the sultan is all powerful here. Go, Frank! May Allah protect you! Farewell.”
He did not release her.
“I will not go like this!” came swiftly from his lips. “I must know the truth—I must understand this mystery. Igela, lift that veil. The stars are bright, and my eyes have become accustomed to darkness. I must see your face. Lift your veil!”
She raised her hand to obey, and, at that moment, it seemed as if the very heavens came crashing and thundering upon Frank’s head. He fell prostrate upon the ground, where he lay like a creature death-stricken by a thunderbolt!
How long he lay insensible in the street Frank never knew. When his senses returned and he sat up, he saw an old water carrier staring wild-eyed at him.
Frank spoke to the man, but the water carrier seemed frightened, and hastened away, muttering prayers in the Berber tongue.
And now the terrible pain that had been in his throat was in his head. He put up his hand, and it was red with blood when he took it away.