Arabi lazily turned his head in Helmar's direction, and without changing the position of his body slowly eyed him from head to foot. The face that was thus revealed was a blank to George; he had expected to see one of strong character, or to discern in it indications at least of great intelligence. One of the greatest characteristics apparent was of intense indolence, whilst the shifty eyes pointed to a nature vacillating almost to weakness. Whether this really were his true character, or whether it were simply a mask used to cover the inner workings of this remarkable man's mind, George did not know; at any rate, it was sufficient, after what he had heard, to make him dislike and distrust him.
"You are a spy!" said the Pasha, in Arabic, shifting his glance away from the prisoner.
"I am no spy," replied George, haughtily, "I am merely an interpreter employed by the British Government."
"How came you to be spying out our defences then, when you were captured?" asked he, sternly, looking up sharply at the tone of George's reply.
"I accompanied the patrol in my official capacity."
"Which means, I understand, that you were there to elicit information from any natives whom you chanced to meet."
"Not at all—simply to translate into English whatever they had to say. The officer was there to gather information."
A faint flicker of a smile passed over Arabi's face at Helmar's ready replies, and he exchanged a few words with Naoum in an undertone. Presently he turned again to his prisoner—
"Then by your own showing you were simply an accomplice of spies."
"A patrol on scouting duty is a legitimate tactic of warfare, therefore those who accompanied it were not spies, and I am entitled to be treated simply as a prisoner of war, not as prey for the rabble of the town to wreak their vengeance on by roasting alive!"