Martin's voice was matter-of-fact. "After all," he observed, "what are the odds, where the King was or where the Queen was at a given time in the past, so long as we jolly well know where they are to-night?" Turning to the Sultan's officer, he spoke rapidly. "You understand what is expected?" He pointed one hand to the party from the yacht. "The man nearest us is the King who failed to remain dead. That failure is curable if you play your game." He paused. "The lady," he added, "has the misfortune to have been the Queen of Galavia. You understand, my brother?"
"Your words are illuminating." He spoke with a profound bow. "In serving you, I shall bring honor to my children, and my children's children." With the Turkish gesture of farewell, his fingers touching heart, lips and forehead, he betook himself backward to the door.
Two hours later, alighting from a rickety victoria by the landing-stage, Cara made her way between the two men, toward the waiting launch from the _Isis_. Filthy looking Arabs, to the number of a dozen, rose out of the shadows and crowded about the trio, pleading piteously for _backshish_ in the name of Allah. The party found itself forced back towards the carriage, and Benton fingered the grip of the revolver in his pocket as the other hand held the girl's arm. At the same moment there was a sudden clamor of shouting and the patter of running feet. Then the throng of beggars dropped back under the pelting blows from heavy _naboots_ in the hands of _kavasses_.
An instant later a stout Turk in official uniform broke through the confusion, shouting imprecations.
"Back, you children of swine!" he declaimed. "Back to your mires, you pigs! Do you dare to affront the great _Pashas_?" Then, turning obsequiously, he bowed with profound apology. "It is a bitter sorrow that you should be annoyed," he assured them, "but it is over."
"To whom have we the honor of expressing our thanks?" smiled Pagratide.
The _Osmanli_ responded with a deprecating gesture of self-effacement.
"To one of the least of men," he said. "I am called Abdul Said _Bey_. I am the humble servant of His Majesty, the Sultan--whom Allah preserve."
As the launch put off, the elliptical figure of Abdul Said _Bey_, on the lowest step of the landing, speeded its departure with a gesture of ceremonious farewell--fingers sweeping heart, lips and forehead. "If you go to shop in Stamboul," he shouted after them, "have a care. The pigs will cheat you--all save Mohammed Abbas."