An hour passed in this way, when suddenly he started up with an exclamation.
"Of course, what a fool I am!" he muttered. "He is the mate of Naoum's dahabîeh. I remember distinctly now. I wonder how he got here; he seemed a decent sort of nigger, too! I wonder if he were forced into Arabi's service against his will? I must find out; if so, he may be of use to me." Joy came into his heart, and he laughed aloud.
He already began to picture himself fooling Arden for the second time, although how was not quite plain even to himself. Still, as a drowning man will cling to a straw, George grasped at this one gleam of hope, and it brought him a peace of mind that he had not felt since he was captured the night before.
The day dragged wearily on. At short intervals his guards would look in to see that he was not attempting to escape, and, satisfied with their inspection, would prop themselves in a sitting posture outside the door against the wall, and to all appearance sleep.
Towards sundown food was again brought to him, and at the same time his guard was changed. While he was yet eating his unsavoury meal one of the new men entered—it was the man he had recognized.
Glancing furtively at his fellow-guard outside, he advanced to the centre of the room, and with a smile that displayed a row of brilliant teeth, said—
"You remember, eh, de dahabîeh?"
Helmar glanced up with a smile.
"Yes, you helped us to beat off the rebels, I remember. I saw you this morning. But how came you here?"
For reply, the man put his finger to his lips and glanced towards the door; then, as if expecting a spy, stepped over to the window and looked out. Satisfied with his inspection, he came back, and, squatting himself down on the floor, looked for a moment at his prisoner.