“The idiot swears it’s a trap. He says he won’t go unless the ‘sheikh,’ as he calls him, promises we are doing the straight thing.”
“It is Ringrose,” growled Jakoub; “I know him; this is his plan to trap me.”
“I swear, Jakoub——” I began, but then the bishop, who had overheard the conversation, joined us.
“I promise you,” he said, “in the name of the one God whom we both worship, that we are doing what we believe to be the best thing for you as well as for others. I promise that in this we are dealing faithfully with you. Now go quickly. It is your only chance of safety.”
Jakoub followed Edmund down to the cellar without another word.
The bishop and I returned to the dining-room and resumed our seats at the table.
My heart was beating painfully as we heard through the floor the harsh grating of the door that led from the cellar to the passage. We heard it opened, and it seemed an age before it was dragged to, and the rusty bolts shot back. I think the bishop breathed a little rapidly too.
As Edmund rejoined us with an enquiring glance I shook my head.
“I wonder what is keeping them,” he said as he sat down in his place.
I explained briefly what I had arranged with Bates.