"How do you know they tell about the treasure?" broke in Fenshawe.
"Because I stole them from Monsieur Haxton," was the cool reply. "I had sold them to Monsieur Alfieri, and he gave them to Madame's husband. Monsieur le Baron was his doctor, and a friend, but, when he found out how valuable those papers were, he hired me to secure them from Monsieur Haxton's bureau while he slept. Unfortunately, there was an accident. Monsieur Haxton was in a fever, and the doctor gave him a sleeping draft. Monsieur Haxton took too much, and he never woke again."
Fenshawe's face grew dark with anger.
"You scoundrel!" he cried. "Between you, you poisoned the man. I recollect the incident now. I saw it in the papers at the time."
"You are wrong, Monsieur," said Abdullah calmly. "There was an inquiry, and it was proved that the draft was only a strong one—quite harmless if the doctor's written orders were obeyed. True, none but I and the Baron knew why the Englishman should sleep so soundly that night, but it was not meant to kill him. Monsieur Alfieri charged the doctor with having committed a crime, so Monsieur Haxton's friends had the affair fully examined into. It was really an accident. Monsieur le Baron was exceedingly grieved."
"But he kept the papers?" was Fenshawe's grim comment.
"By the Kaaba, and why not? Here was Monsieur Alfieri trying to hang him, and all because Madame would not have anything to do with him. You see, there was every reason why the Hakim Effendi should get the papers. Monsieur Haxton was fool enough to tell Alfieri something about them."
"Probably Monsieur Haxton meant to play the part of an honest man."
"It may be. Who knows? Yet it is certain that Alfieri would never have shared the treasure with Monsieur Haxton If he had known what the writing was about. On the other hand, Monsieur le Baron told Madame everything, and he promised me a good share for helping him. When he went to England he left me to watch Alfieri. They were always enemies, those two."
Dick remembered the letter in Arabic he had seen von Kerber reading on the night they met in the Austrian's house. And he recalled, too, with a shiver, Mrs. Haxton's agonized words when he tried to lead her away from the dead man who had dared so much for her sake. She had "the blood of three men on her soul," she said. One of those men was her husband. In that dark hour, what terrible shadows had trooped from the tomb to torture her! He said nothing to his companions. She knew. He only guessed, and he left it at that.