The thought made him feel desperate. He longed to arise and batter down the door, walk into the house, and save her from her persecutors.
“I am faint and weak and I can do nothing. I will mark this spot, so I may find my way back to it.”
Then he arose and moved away with an uncertain step, having taken note of the appearance of the door, so he felt sure he would recognize it if he saw it again.
Tangier is not an easy city for a foreigner to find his way through, as Frank discovered. He moved slowly, noting every peculiarity of the narrow, crooked street.
Muffled figures passed him, gazing aslant at him from beneath beetling brows. All seemed to wonder that a foreigner and a Christian should be astir, wandering through the streets at that hour in the morning.
That was what Frank fancied at first, but he finally lifted his hand to his throbbing head again, and he understood why they stared at him so strangely.
He was hatless, and the blood from his wound had dripped down the side of his face. He knew he must be an object to attract the curiosity of any beholder.
He found the square, and then it was not difficult to make his way to the hotel.
As Frank had expected, he found Professor Scotch and Ephraim nearly distracted with fear and suspense. When they saw him their joy was boundless.
It did not take the lad long to relate his adventures, having first bathed the wound on his head, and bound it up with a cloth.