? ? ? ? And thus it was that Achmet Zek, the Arab, found him. Achmet's followers were for running a spear through the body of their hereditary enemy; but Achmet would have it otherwise. First he would question the Belgian. It were easier to question a man first and kill him afterward, than kill him first and then question him.
? ? ? ? So he had Lieutenant Albert Werper carried to his own tent, and there slaves administered wine and food in small quantities until at last the prisoner regained consciousness. As he opened his eyes he saw the faces of strange black men about him, and just outside the tent the figure of an Arab. Nowhere was the uniform of his soldiers to be seen.
? ? ? ? The Arab turned and seeing the open eyes of the prisoner upon him, entered the tent.
? ? ? ? "I am Achmet Zek," he announced. "Who are you, and what were you doing in my country? Where are your soldiers?"
? ? ? ? Achmet Zek! Werper's eyes went wide, and his heart sank. He was in the clutches of the most notorious of cut-throats--a hater of all Europeans, especially those who wore the uniform of Belgium.
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