The Arab bowed silently. It might be that he stood to win, no matter who lost, in this war of intrigue.
"Do I see you again to-night, Madame?" he asked, as the boat drew alongside the jetty.
"I think not. Come with me until I obtain an alabeeyah. Then, to your search, and report to me early to-morrow."
They soon found an alabeeyah, one of the small open carriages made popular in Egypt by the French, and Mrs. Haxton was driven towards the fort. The Arab began his quest for Giuseppe Alfieri, but found him not, for the most convincing reason that Alfieri was then seated in the Governor's library, smoking the Governor's cigarettes, and drinking the Governor's best Capri.
His Excellency had just returned from the hotel. He, too, had deferred to the morning a tactful explanation that pressure of business had prevented the despatch of Mr. Fenshawe's cablegrams that night. But tact was not his most obvious gift. Though he hoped to mollify the irate yacht-owner with soft words, he did not spare Alfieri now.
"The madness of it!" he cried. "You say it was a mistake. That is the plea of a stupid child. The affair would have been just as awkward if you had carried off the Signora Haxton. She is a British subject. In two days the newspapers of Europe would magnify the incident into an international dispute, and, with Abyssinia always ready to fan the flame—"
"Believe me, Excellency, the Signora herself would have written that she had gone away of her own free will," broke in the other.
"I doubt it very much. Her friends could not fail to think that she was writing under compulsion. I tell you, idiot that you are, you have prejudiced your own case, made difficulties where they did not exist. If your sworn statements are true—"
"They are true, true as death," vociferated Alfieri.
"Ebbene! Why, then, strengthen your enemies by giving them just cause for complaint?"