hear?"
But the tall Arab was as impervious to English as to Arabic.
The Egyptian tried again and again. The prisoner looked at Joyce with
his inscrutable eyes, and occasionally twitched his face at him, but
never opened his mouth. The Bimbashi scratched his head in
bewilderment.

"Look here, Mahomet Ali, we've got to get some sense out of this fellow.
You say there are no papers on him?"

"No, sir; we found no papers."

"No clue of any kind?"

"He has come far, sir. A trotting camel does not die easily. He has
come from Dongola, at least."

"Well, we must get him to talk."

"It is possible that he is deaf and dumb."

"Not he. I never saw a man look more all there in my life."

"You might send him across to Assouan."

"And give someone else the credit? No, thank you. This is my bird.
But how are we going to get him to find his tongue?"

The Egyptian's dark eyes skirted the encampment and rested on the cook's
fire. "Perhaps," said he, "if the Bimbashi thought fit--" He looked at
the prisoner and then at the burning wood.

"No, no; it wouldn't do. No, by Jove, that's going too far."

"A very little might do it."

"No, no. It's all very well here, but it would sound just awful if ever
it got as far as Fleet Street. But, I say," he whispered, "we might
frighten him a bit. There's no harm in that."

"No, sir."

"Tell them to undo the man's galabeeah. Order them to put a horseshoe
in the fire and make it red-hot." The prisoner watched the proceedings
with an air which had more of amusement than of uneasiness. He never
winced as the black sergeant approached with the glowing shoe held upon
two bayonets.

"Will you speak now?" asked the Bimbashi, savagely. The prisoner smiled
gently and stroked his beard.

"Oh, chuck the infernal thing away!" cried Joyce, jumping up in a
passion. "There's no use trying to bluff the fellow. He knows we won't
do it. But I _can_ and I _will_ flog him, and you can tell him from me
that if he hasn't found his tongue by to-morrow morning I'll take the
skin off his back as sure as my name's Joyce. Have you said all that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, you can sleep upon it, you beauty, and a good night's rest may it
give you!" He adjourned the Court, and the prisoner, as imperturbable
as ever, was led away by the guard to his supper of rice and water.
Hilary Joyce was a kind-hearted man, and his own sleep was considerably
disturbed by the prospect of the punishme