is name? You didn't tell me before. Strange----"

"Why, what do you mean?" asked both young men in a breath.

"Oh, it's nothing. Only some weeks ago a young German of that name
came here and he was found some employment. I forget exactly what.
Anyhow the fellow misbehaved himself--stole some money or something
and was imprisoned. There was a frightful scene when sentence was
passed on him. He swore revenge for what he called 'the insulting
treatment,' was taken away to the cells, and three days afterwards
escaped."

"What was he like?" asked George.

The doctor described him. There was no doubt about it, it was
certainly Mark.

"The scoundrel," said Helmar, bitterly, "to think he should disgrace
himself in such a manner! Has anything been heard of him since?"

"No, we found no trace at all, and I shouldn't be surprised if he
made his way into the rebel camp. But come, we must get to business.
Osterberg can remain here until we return."

Helmar followed his friend over to the consul's office. The doctor
left him for a moment outside while he interviewed the arbitrator of
his fate.

Whilst waiting the result, Helmar could not help thinking of the
perfidious Mark. What a viper he had been, and how quickly he had
again fallen across his path! One thing was certain, if ever Helmar
met him again, he would extort from him the money he had stolen, and
denounce him for the rascal he was.

His reflections were cut short by the door being thrown open and a
sharp summons for him to enter.

George found himself in a bare-looking office. The only furniture
consisted of a desk, one or two hard, uncomfortable chairs, and a
long, wooden bench. For decoration the wall was covered with
innumerable paper files and maps. He had no time for inspection. He
was standing in front of the desk, seated at which was a slight man.
He was partially bald, and his face matched his hair--it was
brick-dust colour. His features were small, though clear and sharply
cut, while his eyes were jet black and keenly penetrating. The
doctor was standing beside him, and the pair eyed the young man as
he stepped forward.

"German," said the man, without taking his eyes from Helmar's face.
"Any relatives in the country?"

"No, sir," replied George without hesitation.

"Want work, eh? Um," and he bit the end of his pen; "you speak
Arabic, Dr. Dixon tells me?"

"Yes, sir."

"How much do you know?" he asked in that language.

George replied in th