"He did."
"Then why the devil didn't you give it to him? What's a thousand pounds against this muddle?"
"For the simple reason I didn't have it to give up."
"What's that?"
"When I went up to my room, night before last, some one had been there ahead of me. And at first I had given you the credit," said George, with admirable frankness.
"Gone!" There was no mistaking the dismay in Ryanne's voice.
"Absolutely."
"Well, I be damn!" Ryanne threw aside the blanket and got up. It was a painful moment, and he swayed a little. "If Mahomed hasn't it, and I haven't it, and you haven't it, who the devil has, then?"
George shook his head.
"Jones, we are in for it. If that cursed rug is Mahomed's salvation, it is no less ours. If we ever reach the palace of Bagdad and that rug is not forthcoming, we'll never see the outside of the walls again."