Rad el Moussa nodded gravely.  “Savvy plenty,” said he.

Now Kettle knew that the machinery of the law in these small Arabian coast towns was concentrated in the person of the Kady, who, for practical purposes, must be made to move by that lubricant known as palm oil; and so he produced some coins from his pocket and lifted his eyebrows inquiringly.

Rad el Moussa nodded again, and made careful inspection of the coins, turning them one by one with his long brown fingers, and biting those he fancied most as a test of their quality.  Finally, he selected a gold twenty-franc piece and two sovereigns, balanced and chinked them carefully in his hand, and then slipped them into some private receptacle in his wearing apparel.

“I say,” remarked Kettle, “that’s not for you personally, old tintacks.  That’s for the Kady.”

Rad pointed majestically to his own breast.  “El Kady,” he said.

“Oh, you are his Worship, are you?” said Kettle.  “Why didn’t you say so before?  I don’t think it was quite straight of you, tintacks, but perhaps that’s your gentle Arab way.  But I say, Whiskers, don’t you try being too foxy with me, or you’ll get hurt.  I’m not the most patient man in the world with inferior nations.  Come, now, where’s the mate?”

Rad spread his hands helplessly.

“See, here, it’s no use your trying that game.  You know that I want Murray, my mate.”

“Savvy plenty.”

“Then hand him out, and let me get away back on board.”

“No got,” said Rad el Moussa; “no can.”

“Now look here, Mister,” said Captain Kettle, “I’ve paid you honestly for justice, and if I don’t have it, I’ll start in pulling down your old town straight away.  Give up the mate, Rad, and let me get back peacefully to my steamboat, or, by James!  I’ll let loose a wild earthquake here.  If you want battle, murder, and sudden death, Mr. Rad el Moussa, just you play monkey tricks with me, and you’ll get ’em cheap.  Kady, are you?  Then, by James! you start in without further talk, and give me the justice that I’ve bought and paid for.”

Though this tirade was in an alien tongue, Rad el Moussa caught the drift from Captain Kettle’s accompanying gesticulations, which supplied a running translation as he went on.  Rad saw that his visitor meant business, and signed that he would go out and fetch the imprisoned mate forthwith.

“No, you don’t,” said Kettle promptly.  “If your Worship once left here, I might have trouble in finding you again.  I know how easy it is to hide in a-warren like this town of yours.  Send one of your hands with a message.”

Now, to convey this sentence more clearly, Kettle had put his fingers on the Arab’s clothing, when out fell a bag of pearls, which came unfastened.  The pearls rolled like peas about the floor, and the Arab, with gritting teeth, whipped out a knife.  Promptly Kettle drew also, and covered him with a revolver.