d some other plan might be found; but
in Saidee's opinion there was no other plan which offered any real
chance of success. In their situation, they could not afford to stick at
trifles, and neither could Mr. Knight, if he wished to save Victoria
from being married against her will to an Arab. There was no time to
lose if anything were to be done; and if Mr. Knight were willing to take
the way suggested, would he say the word "yes," very distinctly, to the
messenger, as it would not be safe to try and smuggle a letter into the
Zaouia.

It was a strange, even a detestable plot, which Saidee suggested; yet
when Stephen had turned it over in his mind for a moment he said the
word "yes" with the utmost distinctness. The sand-covered Negro imitated
him several times, and having achieved success, was given more money
than he had ever seen in his life. He would not tell the Arab, who
escorted him downstairs again, whence he had come, but it was a long
distance and he had walked. He must return on foot, and if he were to be
back by early morning, he ought to get off at once. Stephen made no
effort to keep him, though he would have liked Saidee's messenger to be
seen by Caird.

Nevill had not begun to undress, when Stephen knocked at his door. He
was about to begin one of his occasional letters to Josette, with his
writing materials arranged abjectly round one tallow candle, on a
washhand stand.

"That beast of a Cassim! He's going to try and marry the poor child off
to his friend Maieddine!" Nevill growled, reading the letter. "Stick at
trifles indeed! I should think not. This is Providential--just when we
couldn't quite make up our minds what to do next."

"You're not complimentary to Providence," said Stephen. "Seems to me a
horrid sort of thing to do, though I'm not prepared to say I won't do
it. _She_ doesn't approve, her sister says, you see----"

"Who knows the man better, his wife or the girl?"

"That goes without saying. Well, I'm swallowing my scruples as fast as I
can get them down, though they're a lump in my throat. However, we
wouldn't hurt the little chap, and if the father adores him, as she
says, we'd have Ben Halim pretty well under our thumbs, to squeeze him
as we chose. Knowing his secret as we do, he wouldn't dare apply to the
French for help, for fear we'd give him away. We must make it clear that
we well know who he is, and that if he squeals, the fat's in the fire!"

"That's the right spirit. We'l