The Message

ss dirty, than those of the average Moorish town. Its people seemed to be devoted to commerce-probably because they are not pure–blooded Moors,

ape. To the north, on the opposite bank of a swift river, cultivated slopes stretched their green and gold to the far–off Zemmur mountains. A picturesque citadel, built by a renegade Englishman in

forenoon at the earliest. He went ashore and was agreeably surprised at finding quite a large number of British and other European me

the tattoo marks made by Domenico Garcia on the skin of Tommaso Rodriguez. Still the Hassan Tower was no myth.

not spend several hours in tearing ancient masonry to pieces. Since leaving England, Warden had become a different man. Always a good–humored cynic, he was now perilously near the less tolerable condition of cynicism without good humor. Intellect began to govern impulse. Though his brain was wearied with endeavor to find a reaso

Coast Castle, for he had given his bankers explicit directions, and a member

hill of which it formed the pinnacle, he realized that it was a landmark shown on a chart he had examined the previous evening. Square and strong, built to defy destruction, and rearing its one hundred

through these and other ruins; he caught a hint of an aqueduct, looked into a deep excavation evidently designed as a cistern, and then, with somewhat mo

itself might be ridden by a man on horse

g and exasperating to be at the foot of the tower and meet an apparently insuperable obstacle of this nature. Was he brought to Rabat by the most extraordinary series of events that could well have

lone on the tiny plateau. A couple of great storks which had built their nest on top of the tower looked down at him with wise eyes. Hundreds of pigeon

f view, and, because Garcia mentioned the "third window on the left," he went to the left. On that side there were only two windows, each twenty feet or more above his head, and Warden was nearly

he mortar between the huge blocks of granite used for the foundation story. Débris had accumulated close to the wall in such quantity that the window–sill was not more than fourteen feet from his eyes. To an active, barefooted Moor, with toes and fingers like the talons of a v

and often paused to make sure of the deepest niches. It must be confessed that no thought of other danger entered into his calculations. His military training sh

ranger. A service revolver reposed in one pocket, and the chisel in another-but there did not seem to be the remo

, not lofty, though an arched roof gave an impression of height. A staircase led to the upper stories, but it was broken. Desolation reigned supreme. Some startled pigeons flew out with

her impetuous attempt to throw the calabash into the Solent had led to the discovery of Garcia's amazing manuscript, and there was the spice of true romance in the fact that now, little more than two months later, he should actually be standing in "the tomb of the infidel buried outside the wall" of Rabat. His fingers itched to be at work. He was spurred by an intense curiosity. He felt that the finding of the ruby would lend credence to an otherwise unbelievable st

reak in one particular stone, but Warden was no adept in the Portuguese tongue, and the dictionary–maker might be translating "interstice," or "crevice," or "division," when he wrote "crack." At any rate, the "center stones" were sound, but the mortar between them was part

itself felt. Nevertheless, the amateur house–breaker labored manfully. Half an hour's pe

nestling between it and its fellow, hidden be

pancy. The ring was a crude affair, made of gold, it is true, but fashioned with rough strength merely to provide a safe means

t perchance he "might escape." Now his very bones were as the dust which had shrouded it during all those years, yet the wondrous fire in its heart shone forth as though it had left the lapidary's bench but yesterday. Warden even smiled sadly when he realized that, no matter how his wooing fared, such a huge gem could never shine on Evelyn Dane's slim finger. It was large enough to form the centerpiece of some stately necklace or tiara. He knew little about the value

ficent jewel winked and blinked in the sunlight. It might almost be alive, and telling h

im of the uncanny gleam in the eyes of the face on t

must be the malaria in my system that makes me see things. Really, the proper thing to do now is to give that beastly ma

ct that any one who saw it could not fail to question him as to its history. Under existing circumstances, he did not court

oncealing it if he possessed a stout piece of cord or strong ribbon. But his pockets contained neither one nor the other, and a sharp pang came with

d would serve admirably as a hiding–place until he was able to entrust the ruby to a bank for transference to London. So

he joints, so that none might know it had ever been removed. While thus occupied, his attention was momentarily drawn to a pair of storks circling lazily above the tower. He wondered if they were the same placid couple that

Water Witch. Her cranes were busy, two strings of coolies were rushing back and forth across a broad gangway, and the first mate was directing operations from the bridge. Warden smiled. He had heard the flow o

o mistaking

ge

py Garcia's fate, and a farewell glance at the vaulted room which had witnessed that by–gone tragedy, and perhaps many another, he began the descent. Thanks to the precautions taken during the climb, he found no great difficulty in placing his toes in the right niche

ditions thought is quick, and Warden was sure that he had unwittingly invaded the sanctuary of a Mohammedan fanatic. He was minded to whip out the revolver and fire a shot that would at least scare this strange being back into his eyrie. But a British sense of fair play stopped him. The blue man, howsoever wild–looking, had not interfered with or molested him in any way. He himself was the intruder. The fact that he was undeniably startled did not justify the use of a bullet, even for

ent that he felt no pain. Consciousness was acute for a fraction of a second. He understood that a heavy stone had fallen or been dropped purposely from the summit of the tower, and that his change of position, helped perhaps by the arched crown of his pith hat, had prevented it from striking directly on top of hi

rotested that the Nazarene must have been spirited away without human agency. The Bey was not listened to, so he tried honestly to find out what had become of Warden. The only ascertainable facts were that the Giaour had bought a chisel, and was seen going to the tower of Hassan, the way to which was shown to him by one of his own countrymen. The hour was early, soon a

riptions for the Jehad that was to drive every foreigner out of the sacred land of the Moors. But he kept silent on that matter, for he feared

to an officer who came out to meet her in the Governor's own surf–boat. A cruiser hastened to Rabat, and trained a gun on the principal palace, whereupon the Bey went aboard in person to explain that none could have made more genuine effor

London, and another Deputy Commissioner was gazetted for the special duty of dealing with native unrest in the Benu? River district. The facts were communicated to Whitehall, and an official fro

said the Under Secretary

orried about a woma

? In

anxious to ascertain Captain Warden's address. Now, Lady Hilbury wrote two days ago with the same objec

ugh its pages. "I thought I remembered the name," he continued. "She was stayin

seemed to need instant examination. Appar

uck me as the sort of man who would go

N

etter, and allow it to be assumed that her inquiry concerning Captain Warden may be

nial man

regiment of lady visitors and corresponde

when he interviewed the Under Secretary. She was charmingly anxious in manner. Though of high rank in the Government,

you will not misunderstand me if I ask what measure of urgency lies behind your business with him. We officials, you know, l

n Warden and I are very dear to each other. We were engaged once, years ago

glances. The Under Secretary was sympathetic, and delighted, and envious of Captain Wa

ight be summoned to West Africa at any moment, but he is such a scrupulously precise man where duty is concerned tha

has happened," admitt

lly is in Africa,

ed you. He is not in Nigeria. When

she cried, genu

st Coast o

is he do

ssed the tips of his fi

cult to say,

of the few women in England who can grasp the seriousness of any plot which brings together the men of Oku and the trusted confidant of a meddlesome foreign potentate

sailing of the Sans

her fine eyes had displayed hitherto. He was making a little circle of dots with a pencil on a blot

one of the ite

the o

lling me nothin

hten me on one point, and I shall acquaint you with such few details of Captain

ly-don'

This fashionable lady

inion, might kno

Evelyn Dane. Of course she would not mention the girl's name;

faintest noti

rced, and the Under Secretary

hore at Rabat no one can, I suppose," and Rosamund caught the ple

f," she cried. "Is he still at Rabat? I have ascertained that he is n

ry. "He is not there now. Indeed, I cannot tell you where he is. If the earth

y when news of Warden's whereabouts reached him. In the meantime, she had to be content with knowledge that was no knowledge, and that only added to her perplexity. On the way to the hotel

zled than Rosamund. He turned to his notes and

nion to Baumgartner's daughter. He took her in a dinghy to the Sans Souci, and this

y rumpled his hair with tho

he did the very thing he did not do? And who is this girl, Evelyn Dane, to whom he telegraphed from Ostend and London before sailing in the Water Witch? Can she shed light on the dark places of Rabat? It is worth trying. The Sans Souci arrives at Madeira to–m