Even through the thick walls of the kasbah they had heard sounds of great excitement in the town. Evidently the whole place was now alive. And there was danger to be anticipated within, for as they groped their way up the last flight of stairs leading to the roof, their steps momentarily guided by the flashes of Tom’s torches, the sounds of a tremendous battering near at hand struck upon their ears. Evidently the sheikh himself was now trying to make his way out. They hastened their steps as much as Sir Mark’s enfeebled state permitted; Tom indeed was in such desperate anxiety, for pursuit could not be long delayed, that he forced the pace in a way that drew a protest from the Englishman—even in this extremity a diplomatist.
They came to the last flight of stairs leading to the roof.
“Is that you, Dorrell?” came the voice of Oliphant from above. Nervously restless, first on account of Tom’s long absence, and then at the violent sounds within and without the building, he had left the airship and stationed himself with his revolver at the top of the staircase leading to the roof, to cover Tom’s retreat if he proved to be hard pressed.
“All well!” shouted Tom in reply.
In another minute all four emerged upon the roof, and Oliphant gave a whistle of amazement and consternation when he saw an unexpected addition to the party.
“Two of them?” he ejaculated.
“Yes; the sheikh had a German gentleman—”
“Hildebrand Schwab, representative of ze excellent firma of Schlagintwert and——”
“Hang it, we can’t stop for introductions now,” said Tom. “Abdul, run down to the door of the sheikh’s room and persuade him that he risks his life if he comes out. We shall want a minute or two to get ready.”
The Moor obeyed, not without a look of nervousness. At first he could scarcely make his voice heard above the uproar within the sheikh’s room; but succeeding at last, he began a conversation which might have shocked and would certainly have amused Tom if he could have understood it.