But at the brink of the riven masonry the Greek paused irresolute. The sheer drop had more terrors than the weapon of his pursuer. Before he could finally make up his mind, Osborne, laying aside his revolver, gripped him by the neck and laid him on his back.
Hymettus made no attempt at resistance, but the Lieutenant, mindful of the previous encounter on Spanish territory, was taking no further chances. With a sailor's deftness he bound the spy's arms behind his back, and secured his ankles with a length of leather belt that enabled the prisoner to make a stride of a bare eighteen inches.
"That's all serene," remarked Osborne with a tone of relief, as he regained his feet and took possession of his revolver once more. "Now, old man, we've a good ten miles to tramp, with two villainous rascals for company."
"How about the camel?" enquired Webb.
"I haven't overlooked the fact," rejoined the Lieutenant. "It's not much use to us as a mode of conveyance. After our meteor-like flight from the backs of those donkeys, I don't fancy an aerial perch on a ship of the desert. Humanitarian reasons won't permit us to leave the beast to die of starvation in this sand-blown spot. We'll make the Greek ride, and that white-livered Arab will conduct the brute. If they attempt to sheer off—well, that's where our revolvers will come in handy."
"And the wireless gear?" asked the Sub.
"Let it stop as evidence. The Royal Engineers will see to that to-morrow. Now, best foot for'ard: it's a long, long way to Alexandria."
To his unbounded relief Osborne convoyed the prisoners into the open. He was unfeignedly glad to get clear of the frowning walls of the ruined building, with its labyrinth of side passages and weird nooks and crannies.
"Now then, don't lag," said Webb sharply, addressing the Arab, who seemed loath to keep up with his fellow-prisoner.
The man shot a curious glance at his captor and stood stock-still.