“But look here,” said the doctor, “what has this got to do with your patent plan for keeping Frank from betraying himself?”
“Everything,” said the professor triumphantly. “That was my patent plan. I said to myself that sooner or later Frank would be letting—”
“Yes, yes, of course, betraying himself,” said the doctor impatiently. “But the plan, man—the plan?”
“Well, that’s it, my dear Hakim,” cried the professor, “I said to myself, that poor fellow cannot exist without talking; the words will swell up in him like so much gas. He must have a safety valve. Well, I provided it. I lay down beside him every night and let him talk till he fell asleep.”
“I never thought it meant anything more than a friendly feeling,” said Frank wonderingly. “Well, perhaps there is something in what you say.”
Chapter Twenty Three.
A Triumphal Entry.
It was one bright evening, just about dusk, that, utterly exhausted by a long day’s march, the head of the long line of horses, camels heavily laden, and marching men, came within sight of the city that was their goal, and in the glimpse the English party had of the place before night closed in it seemed to be one of the most desolate looking spots they had ever seen.