which the Arab had taken of the girl; but many times
during these two days had his cunning eyes peered greedily from beneath
the hood of his burnoose to gloat upon the beauties of the prisoner.

Nor was this hidden infatuation of any recent origin. He had conceived
it when first the wife of the Englishman had fallen into the hands of
Achmet Zek; but while that austere chieftain lived, Mohammed Beyd had
not even dared hope for a realization of his imaginings.

Now, though, it was different--only a despised dog of a Christian stood
between himself and possession of the girl. How easy it would be to
slay the unbeliever, and take unto himself both the woman and the
jewels! With the latter in his possession, the ransom which might be
obtained for the captive would form no great inducement to her
relinquishment in the face of the pleasures of sole ownership of her.
Yes, he would kill Werper, retain all the jewels and keep the
Englishwoman.

He turned his eyes upon her as she rode along at his side. How
beautiful she was! His fingers opened and closed--skinny, brown talons
itching to feel the soft flesh of the victim in their remorseless
clutch.

"Do you know," he asked leaning toward her, "where this man would take
you?"

Jane Clayton nodded affirmatively.

"And you are willing to become the plaything of a black sultan?"

The girl drew herself up to her full height, and turned her head away;
but she did not reply. She feared lest her knowledge of the ruse that
M. Frecoult was playing upon the Arab might cause her to betray herself
through an insufficient display of terror and aversion.

"You can escape this fate," continued the Arab; "Mohammed Beyd will
save you," and he reached out a brown hand and seized the fingers of
her right hand in a grasp so sudden and so fierce that this brutal
passion was revealed as clearly in the act as though his lips had
confessed it in words. Jane Clayton wrenched herself from his grasp.

"You beast!" she cried. "Leave me or I shall call M. Frecoult."

Mohammed Beyd drew back with a scowl. His thin, upper lip curled
upward, revealing his smooth, white teeth.

"M. Frecoult?" he jeered. "There is no such person. The man's name is
Werper. He is a liar, a thief, and a murderer. He killed his captain
in the Congo country and fled to the protection of Achmet Zek. He led
Achmet Zek to the plunder of your home. He followed your husband, and
planned to steal his gold from hi