to Brassbound.)

BRASSBOUND (eagerly). The Cadi! How far off?

DRINKWATER. Matter o two mawl.

BRASSBOUND. We're saved. Open the gates to the Sheikh.

DRINKWATER (appalled, almost in tears). Naow, naow. Lissn, kepn
(Pointing to Sir Howard): e'll give huz fawv unnerd red uns. (To the
others) Ynt yer spowk to im, Miste Jornsn--Miste Redbrook--

BRASSBOUND (cutting him short). Now then, do you understand plain
English? Johnson and Redbrook: take what men you want and open the gates
to the Sheikh. Let him come straight to me. Look alive, will you.

JOHNSON. Ay ay, sir.

REDBROOK. Righto, governor.

They hurry out, with a few others. Drinkwater stares after them,
dumbfounded by their obedience.

BRASSBOUND (taking out a pistol). You wanted to sell me to my prisoner,
did you, you dog.

DRINKWATER (falling on his knees with a yell). Naow! (Brassbound turns
on him as if to kick him. He scrambles away and takes refuge behind Sir
Howard.)

BRASSBOUND. Sir Howard Hallam: you have one chance left. The Cadi of
Kintafi stands superior to the Sheikh as the responsible governor of the
whole province. It is the Cadi who will be sacrificed by the Sultan if
England demands satisfaction for any injury to you. If we can hold the
Sheikh in parley until the Cadi arrives, you may frighten the Cadi into
forcing the Sheikh to release you. The Cadi's coming is a lucky chance
for YOU.

SIR HOWARD. If it were a real chance, you would not tell me of it. Don't
try to play cat and mouse with me, man.

DRINKWATER (aside to Sir Howard, as Brassbound turns contemptuously away
to the other side of the room). It ynt mach of a chawnst, Sr Ahrd. But
if there was a ganbowt in Mogador Awbr, awd put a bit on it, aw would.

Johnson, Redbrook, and the others return, rather mistrustfully ushering
in Sidi el Assif, attended by Osman and a troop of Arabs. Brassbound's
men keep together on the archway side, backing their captain. Sidi's
followers cross the room behind the table and assemble near Sir Howard,
who stands his ground. Drinkwater runs across to Brassbound and stands
at his elbow as he turns to face Sidi.

Sidi el Aasif, clad in spotless white, is a nobly handsome Arab, hardly
thirty, with fine eyes, bronzed complexion, and instinctively dignified
carriage. He places himself between the two groups, with Osman in
attendance at his right hand.

OSMAN (pointing out Sir Howard). This is the infidel Cadi. (Sir Howard
bows to Sidi, but, bein