Almost at the first report Fosterdyke threw himself at full length upon the sand. Kenyon, without hesitation, rushed upon the would-be assassin, while two of the crew, leaping from the fuselage, promptly seized the miscreant and deprived him of his automatic pistol.
"Hurt, sir?" asked Kenyon, anxiously.
"Not a bit of it," replied Sir Reginald coolly. "That fellow couldn't hit a haystack at five yards. Bring him along, men."
An agitated member of the Egyptian Civil Service, accompanied by a couple of staff officers, hurried up, and after making inquiries and learning that Fosterdyke was unhurt, suggested, not without good reason, that the would-be assassin should be handed over to the civil powers for trial.
The baronet airily swept aside the suggestion.
"Sorry, Vansittart," he said; "but I'm not going to waste precious time appearing as a prosecutor in this business. No, I'm not exactly professing to take the law into my own hands, but I propose taking the gentleman with me. If he tried to shoot me, surely I can jolly well kidnap him. 'Tany rate, possession's nine points of the law. When I've done with him you can deal with him."
"But, dash it all, man!" exclaimed one of the staff officers; "you aren't going to--to----"
"Hang him? Not much," declared the baronet. "Return good for evil sort of thing, you know. Don't get flustered, Vansittart. He's mine, and we're just off."
Happening to glance up as he entered the fuselage, Fosterdyke caught sight of Enrico Jaures, who had seen the whole incident through one of the windows.
"Birds of a feather," he soliloquised. "However, I don't suppose we'll pick up pals of this sort at every place we touch. All ready, Kenyon?" he enquired, raising his voice. "Right-o; let go."