“Everything is waiting,” the Professor replied.
“I’ll have one more try, then,” Quest declared.
He made his way slowly through the undergrowth to the spot which the Professor had indicated. Close to the trunk of a tree Craig was standing. Feerda was on her knees before him. She was speaking to him in broken English.
“Dear master, you shall listen to your slave. These people are your enemies. It would be all over in a few minutes. You have but to say the word. My father is eager for it. No one would ever know.”
Craig patted her head. His tone was filled with the deepest despondency.
“It is impossible, Feerda,” he said. “You do not understand. I cannot tell you everything. Sometimes I almost think that the best thing I could do would be to return with them to the countries you know nothing of.”
“That’s what you are going to do, any way,” Quest declared, suddenly making his appearance. “Hands up!”
He covered Craig with his revolver, but his arm was scarcely extended before Feerda sprang at him like a little wild-cat. He gripped her with his left arm and held her away with difficulty.
“Craig,” he continued, “you’re coming with us. You know the way to Port Said and we want you—you know why. Untie that sash from your waist. Quickly!”
Craig obeyed. He had the stupefied air of a man who has lost for the time his volition.