"Pardon!" the man cried, and would have hurried on.
"One moment; your name?" asked Geoff, using the Armenian tongue. "Your name, my friend, for there is something in your voice that reminds me of one I have known."
There was silence perhaps for a whole minute, while Philip slid up behind Geoff, ready to support him, and anticipating trouble. Then suddenly there came a glad cry of surprise from the individual who had cannoned into Geoff, and a hand gripped his arm firmly.
"My master, you are Keith Pasha. Yes?" asked the voice—the voice was Esbul's.
"I am," Geoff told him promptly in tones of relief, for indeed this was a most happy meeting.
"Then come, my master. I have a place of safety for you; there is one who will greet you warmly and find food, and space, and raiment for you. Come, my master, for I also have something which will delight your heart. Listen, Master! I have news of Douglas Pasha."
CHAPTER XIX
Tracking the German
"What luck! What splendid luck!" whispered Philip, as the trio—himself, Geoff, and Esbul—stumbled along the dark archways and across the rough courtyards of the city of Bagdad on their way to those hospitable quarters which the Armenian had mentioned; for Geoff had hurriedly told him who the man was against whom he had stumbled in the darkness, and had intimated to his chum that they were on their way to some haven.