,
Jane Clayton could see both men plainly. She recognized Achmet Zek as
the leader of the band of ruffians who had raided her home and made her
a prisoner, and as she saw Frecoult, the supposed friend and ally,
raise his gun and take careful aim at the Arab, her heart stood still
and every power of her soul was directed upon a fervent prayer for the
accuracy of his aim.

Achmet Zek paused in the middle of the trail. His keen eyes scanned
every bush and tree within the radius of his vision. His tall figure
presented a perfect target to the perfidious assassin. There was a
sharp report, and a little puff of smoke arose from the bush that hid
the Belgian, as Achmet Zek stumbled forward and pitched, face down,
upon the trail.

As Werper stepped back into the trail, he was startled by the sound of
a glad cry from above him, and as he wheeled about to discover the
author of this unexpected interruption, he saw Jane Clayton drop
lightly from a nearby tree and run forward with outstretched hands to
congratulate him upon his victory.

20

Jane Clayton Again a Prisoner

Though her clothes were torn and her hair disheveled, Albert Werper
realized that he never before had looked upon such a vision of
loveliness as that which Lady Greystoke presented in the relief and joy
which she felt in coming so unexpectedly upon a friend and rescuer when
hope had seemed so far away.

If the Belgian had entertained any doubts as to the woman's knowledge
of his part in the perfidious attack upon her home and herself, it was
quickly dissipated by the genuine friendliness of her greeting. She
told him quickly of all that had befallen her since he had departed
from her home, and as she spoke of the death of her husband her eyes
were veiled by the tears which she could not repress.

"I am shocked," said Werper, in well-simulated sympathy; "but I am not
surprised. That devil there," and he pointed toward the body of Achmet
Zek, "has terrorized the entire country. Your Waziri are either
exterminated, or have been driven out of their country, far to the
south. The men of Achmet Zek occupy the plain about your former
home--there is neither sanctuary nor escape in that direction. Our
only hope lies in traveling northward as rapidly as we may, of coming
to the camp of the raiders before the knowledge of Achmet Zek's death
reaches those who were left there, and of obtaining, through some ruse,
an escort toward the north.

"I thi