."

"Don't know about that, my friend," muttered the major. "You may have to
give up your business to the Islands. We commandeer our own ships; I
don't see how you are going to get out of it."

"That would suit me," said Mr. Dainopoulos promptly. "She costs me
fifteen thousand francs a month insurance. And coal is four hundred
francs a ton in Port Said. I make very little out of her."

This was scarcely the literal truth, though Mr. Dainopoulos might be
pardoned for depreciating his profits at a moment when a purchaser
appeared. As a matter of fact he had made already out of that small ship
about seven times her original purchase price and he had a neat scheme
in hand which would make her a very good investment indeed.

"We have some business in the Islands, too, you see," the major remarked
abstractedly. "I think you had better come to my office say about
ten-thirty to-morrow. You know the place. Next to the Ottoman Bank, eh?
G. O. S. Room Fourteen. Ask for Major Begg."

Mr. Dainopoulos, who would probably have done a thousand francs' worth
of business before the major had had his bath, expressed his willingness
to appear.

"Will you have a drink?" said the major in a harsh, brow-beating tone
which was believed by himself and many others of his class to evoke the
very soul of bluff hospitality. Mr. Dainopoulos, however, had a strange
feeling of having been good-humouredly kicked in the face. He declined
the refreshment, not because he felt insulted, but because he knew the
only drink these men had was whiskey and the smell and taste of the
stuff made him sick.

"All right," said the major, regarding an abstainer with disfavour. He
liked a man to take a drink. "To-morrow at ten-thirty. You might close
the door. Thanks."

As he closed the door behind him, as requested, Mr. Dainopoulos
reflected that he would have time to lay the matter before a French
colonel he knew before reaching Room Fourteen. But he believed the best
price was to be had from the British. He had found out that much in the
course of his career--they did not haggle.

The three men he had left did not speak for a moment, waiting for him to
get out of earshot.

"Looks like Providence," observed the lieutenant, making a lunge with
the dagger at a knot in the bedstead.

The major pulled up his trouser leg and scratched a hairy calf. "These
infernal fleas!" he muttered. "Yes, as you say, Providence. An angel
very much in disguise."

"What ab