For the second time Landon's eyes dwelled on Muhammed's face.
"I shall answer him—how?" he asked quietly.
"Thus!" said the Moor, and flung his arms round Miller's elbows and smothered his lips upon his breast, while Landon, laughing a queer, excited laugh, snatched up a garment from the dismal heap on the floor, tore off a liberal patch, and deftly wound it in gag-wise between the prisoner's teeth. Shackled with ragged waist-cloths at ankle and wrist, the gray figure was lowered down the steps into the darkness. Muhammed spoke rapidly and incisively for the space of a minute to the Jew, who listened in impassive silence. Then, with a last commanding gesture, the Moor opened the door and went out again alone into the swiftly falling dusk.
CHAPTER XVII
MUHAMMED SCORES TWICE
Muhammed's steps were bent away from the town towards the row of dilapidated hovels which fringe the bank of sand below the nearer blockhouse. And he walked quickly; there was definite purpose and no sign of hesitation in his stride. He came to a halt before a dwelling, half burrow, half barn, round the entrance of which were clustered half a dozen ragged figures.
The Moor's face was dark in the shadow of his haik hood, but he appeared to need no introduction. He raised a finger and beckoned. One of the lounging figures rose grudgingly and drew aside with him.
"I have it from Yakoob, Signor Luigi, that you leave to-morrow. That must be altered. It may be necessary to make a start to-night."
The other raised a dark Italian face towards the Moor and eyed him questioningly. He shrugged his shoulders.