Werper stifled a gasp of dismay.With rare self-possession he let his gaze drop, without appearing to have halted upon the mirror until it rested again upon the gems.Without haste, he replaced them in the pouch, tucked the latter into his shirt, selected a cigaret from his case, lighted it and rose.Yawning, and stretching his arms above his head, he turned slowly toward the opposite end of the tent.The face of Achmet Zek had disappeared from the opening.
To say that Albert Werper was terrified would be putting it mildly.He realized that he not only had sacrificed his treasure; but his life as well.
Achmet Zek would never permit the wealth that he had discovered to slip through his fingers, nor would he forgive the duplicity of a lieutenant who had gained possession of such a treasure without offering to share it with his chief.
Slowly the Belgian prepared for bed.If he were being watched, he could not know; but if so the watcher saw no indication of the nervous excitement which the European strove to conceal.When ready for his blankets, the man crossed to the little table and extinguished the light.
It was two hours later that the flaps at the front of the tent separated silently and gave entrance to a dark-robed figure, which passed noiselessly from the darkness without to the darkness within.Cautiously the prowler crossed the interior.In one hand was a long knife.He came at last to the pile of blankets spread upon several rugs close to one of the tent walls.
Lightly, his fingers sought and found the bulk beneath the blankets--the bulk that should be Albert Werper.
They traced out the figure of a man, and then an arm shot upward, poised for an instant and descended.
Again and again it rose and fell, and each time the long blade of the knife buried itself in the thing beneath the blankets.But there was an initial lifelessness in the silent bulk that gave the assassin momentary wonder.Feverishly he threw back the coverlets, and searched with nervous hands for the pouch of jewels which he expected to find concealed upon his victim's body.
An instant later he rose with a curse upon his lips.
It was Achmet Zek, and he cursed because he had discovered beneath the blankets of his lieutenant only a pile of discarded clothing arranged in the form and semblance of a sleeping man--Albert Werper had fled.
Out into the village ran the chief, calling in angry tones to the sleepy Arabs, who tumbled from their tents in answer to his voice.But though they searched the village again and again they found no trace of the Belgian.Foaming with anger, Achmet Zek called his followers to horse, and though the night was pitchy black they set out to scour the adjoining forest for their quarry.
As they galloped from the open gates, Mugambi, hiding in a nearby bush, slipped, unseen, within the palisade.
A score of blacks crowded about the entrance to watch the searchers depart, and as the last of them passed out of the village the blacks seized the portals and drew them to, and Mugambi lent a hand in the work as though the best of his life had been spent among the raiders.
In the darkness he passed, unchallenged, as one of their number, and as they returned from the gates to their respective tents and huts, Mugambi melted into the shadows and disappeared.
For an hour he crept about in the rear of the various huts and tents in an effort to locate that in which his master's mate was imprisoned.One there was which he was reasonably assured contained her, for it was the only hut before the door of which a sentry had been posted.Mugambi was crouching in the shadow of this structure, just around the corner from the unsuspecting guard, when another approached to relieve his comrade.
"The prisoner is safe within?" asked the newcomer.
"She is," replied the other, "for none has passed this doorway since I came."
The new sentry squatted beside the door, while he whom he had relieved made his way to his own hut.Mugambi slunk closer to the corner of the building.In one powerful hand he gripped a heavy knob-stick.No sign of elation disturbed his phlegmatic calm, yet inwardly he was aroused to joy by the proof he had just heard that "Lady" really was within.
The sentry's back was toward the corner of the hut which hid the giant black.The fellow did not see the huge form which silently loomed behind him.The knob-stick swung upward in a curve, and downward again.
There was the sound of a dull thud, the crushing of heavy bone, and the sentry slumped into a silent, inanimate lump of clay.
A moment later Mugambi was searching the interior of the hut.At first slowly, calling, "Lady!" in a low whisper, and finally with almost frantic haste, until the truth presently dawned upon him--the hut was empty!
