"Now look here—"
"Hazoor, it was charged upon me to say, 'I come from you know whom.'"
"The devil it was…. Well, what do you want?"
"I was to say, 'Hasten, hazoor, for the night—"
"I've heard that, too. You mean you're to lead me to somebody, somewhere—you can't say where?"
"Aye, hazoor, even so."
"Get over there, in the corner, while I think this over—and don't move or I'll make you a present of a nice young bullet, Dulla Dad."
"That is as Allah wills; only remember, hazoor, the injunction for haste."
The man, a small stunted Mohammedan, sidled fearsomely over to the spot indicated and waited there, cringing and supplicating Amber with eloquent gestures. The Virginian watched him closely until comforted by the reflection that, had murder been the object, he had been a dead man long since. Then he put aside the revolver and began to dress.
"Only Labertouche would have to communicate with me by such stealth," he considered. "Besides, that reference to the photograph—"