And then came another sequence of taps at the door.
"Enter and report!" commanded Zantut.
"Weariness and waste of time, saidi," announced the latest arrival. "As you ordered, I had a word with the guards posted at the city gates. My purse is somewhat lighter, but to no purpose."
And the purport of each of the succeeding scouts was similar. Rankin had evaded them all. Then, after an interval, came the last scout.
"I saw a man on horse, followed by three on foot, saidi," he began. "They carried a burden that might very well have been a man. The horseman halted at the house of the Shareef Yussuf, where he and his followers entered."
"Ah! ... could it have been the Shareef's son, Absál?"
"It could. He had a red beard, and was very tall and lean."
"Sayyid Absál himself! Then what, Ismail?"
"Someone of the party had been wounded. I followed blood splashes on the paving until I came to a side street close to the caravanserai of this madman we are seeking. In a blind street I saw three men lying where they had fallen. They had no further use for the swords they still clutched. But before I could investigate, a party of armed men approached to pick up the dead."
"Then what?" demanded Zantut.