“But, Sheik,” said the lieutenant gravely, “when the Italians are driven out, you, the acknowledged leader of all the dissatisfied Arabs in the vicinity—the man who would be Sultan or Bey if successful—will have as good a title to the land as another, and the German government will accept it. Am I not right?” he asked, turning to Jack.
“You are,” Jack agreed.
The explanation was plausible, and the Sheik was flattered.
“They have heard of me in Germany, then?” he asked.
“Indeed they have,” said Jack, who from previous visits to Nalut knew something of the Sheik’s ancestry and fortunes. “They know that your genealogy runs back in an unbroken line far beyond the days of Carthage, and you are looked upon as the man of the hour in Tripoli.”
Greatly pleased to hear that his name was so well known in the land beyond the sea, the Sheik lost whatever suspicions he might have had and accepted the attractive proposition thus offered him.
“When will the arms be ready, and where will they be landed?” he asked.
“They will be landed in the Gulf of Sidra day after to-morrow,” was the lieutenant’s reply.
“Good!” exclaimed the Sheik. “I shall have them removed to a secret place in the desert, not to be used until we are fully prepared to strike. Now, about the money?”
“The silver will be turned over to you in Nalut to-morrow morning, if you will meet me there. Is that satisfactory?”