'A friend of mine!' Malto answered bitterly and somewhat incoherently. 'Would that I could call such a man my friend! I have no such friend in the world! My life, since I was a boy, has been passed among deadly enemies, who destroyed my father and brought me up as a slave! I have ever been a child of misfortune; and now, see how ill-fortune dogs me! I come across you, and you promise to take me to King Ivanta, to give me the opportunity of pleading my cause with him and asking for my rights; but what comes of it? At once treachery steps in again, and instead of your helping me, I only lead you into trouble and fresh misfortune!'
'Nay, it was no doing of yours,' said Alondra gently. 'Have patience, my friend, and all will yet come right! I feel sure it will! My father is not going to be beaten by people like Agrando and his confederates. He will soon come to our aid and rescue us, have no fear! Then you shall tell him your story, and he will see that right is done. Meantime, it seems to me, we have been fortunate in meeting with Fumenta. If he and his people are to be trusted—and I feel sure they are—we have found useful and faithful allies, and a secure hiding-place where we can await developments!'
As the young prince finished, he started. While he had been speaking the last few words there had been heard a tiny, muffled 'ting-ting,' and now, in the surrounding stillness, it was heard still more plainly.
'Ting—ting-ting—ting—ting!' it rang out.
'By Jove!' exclaimed Jack, 'that's your wireless telegraph affair!'
Alondra plunged a hand into his breast and brought out the little instrument they had seen when they had been in the pavilion.
He placed it on his outstretched palm, and again were heard the clear, silvery notes of the little gongs.
Excitedly he opened it and began to manipulate the miniature levers and pins.
'What did I tell you?' he breathed, in low accents. 'Said I not that my father would be soon on his way to our assistance?'
Just then Fumenta came gliding back like some weird, mysterious shadow.