ssor, smiling proudly. "You,
Frank, haven't I always lain down beside you every night when all was
still?"
"Oh, yes, of course."
"And didn't I always say that I had come for a quiet chat?"
"To be sure," said Frank.
"And did I ever have it?"
"Yes, we had one every night, carried on in a whisper."
"False!" cried the professor.
"True!" said Frank.
"False!" cried the professor.
"No, true!" said Frank.
"I say false, sir, for from the time I lay down every night till you,
being tired with your hard day's work, dropped off to sleep, I never
hardly said a word."
"Well, now you mention it," said Frank, "I don't think you did, for I
often used to think you had gone to sleep."
"Yes, and you used to ask me if I had. But I never had, eh?"
"Never once," said Frank quickly; "and I often used to feel ashamed of
myself for being so drowsy and going off as I did."
"But look here," said the doctor, "what has this got to do with your
patent plan for keeping Frank from betraying himself?"
"Everything," said the professor triumphantly. "That was my patent
plan. I said to myself that sooner or later Frank would be letting--"
"Yes, yes, of course, betraying himself," said the doctor impatiently.
"But the plan, man--the plan?"
"Well, that's it, my dear Hakim," cried the professor, "I said to
myself, that poor fellow cannot exist without talking; the words will
swell up in him like so much gas. He must have a safety valve. Well, I
provided it. I lay down beside him every night and let him talk till he
fell asleep."
"I never thought it meant anything more than a friendly feeling," said
Frank wonderingly. "Well, perhaps there is something in what you say."
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
A TRIUMPHAL ENTRY.
It was one bright evening, just about dusk, that, utterly exhausted by a
long day's march, the head of the long line of horses, camels heavily
laden, and marching men, came within sight of the city that was their
goal, and in the glimpse the English party had of the place before night
closed in it seemed to be one of the most desolate looking spots they
had ever seen.
"But it is not fair to judge it," said the professor quietly. "We can
see next to nothing; it is fully two miles away; and we are all weary
and low-spirited with our long march. Wait till morning."
It had been expected that they would march in that night, but a halt was
called in the midst of a great, dusty plain, and prepar
|