‘Where are they?  How many?’ anxiously asked Arthur.

‘There are five of us altogether,’ said Lanty; ’praise be to Him who has saved us thus far.  We know the touch of cold steel at our throats, as well as ever I knew the poor misthress’ handbell; and unless our Lady, and St. Lawrence, and the rest of them, keep the better watch on us, the rascals will only ransom us without our heads, so jealous and bloodthirsty they are.  The Bey of Constantina sent for us once, but all we got by that was worse usage than the very dogs in Paris, and being dragged up these weary hills, where Maitre Hubert and I carried Mademoiselle every foot of the way on our backs, and she begging our pardon so prettily—­only she could not walk, the rocks had so bruised her darlin’ little feet.’

’This is their chief holy man, Lanty.  If any one can prevail on these savages to release you it is he.’

’And how come you to be hand and glove with them, Masther Arthur—­you that I thought drownded with poor Madame and the little Chevalier and the rest?’

’The Chevalier is not drowned, Laurent.  He is safe in the Consul’s house at Algiers.’

’Now heaven and all the saints be praised!  The Chevalier safe and well!  ‘Tis a very miracle!’ cried Lanty, letting fall his burthen, as he clasped his hands in ecstasy and performed a caper which, in spite of all his master Eyoub’s respect for the Marabouts, brought a furious yell of rage, and a tremendous blow with the cudgel, which Lanty, in his joy, seemed to receive as if it had been a feather.

Hadji Eseb averted a further blow; and understanding from Arthur that the poor fellow’s transport was caused by the tidings of the safety of his master’s son, he seemed touched, and bade that he and Eyoub should lead the way to the place of durance of the chief prisoners.  On the way Ibrahim Aga interrogated both Eyoub in vernacular Arabic and Lanty in French.  The former was sullen, only speaking from his evident awe of the Marabouts, the latter voluble with joy and hope.

Arthur learnt that the letter he had found under the stone was the fourth that Estelle and Hebert had written.  There had been a terrible journey up the mountains, when Lanty had fully thought Victorine must close her sufferings in some frightful ravine; but, nevertheless, she had recovered health and strength with every day’s ascent above the close, narrow valley.  They were guarded all the way by Arabs armed to the teeth to prevent a rescue by the Bey of Constantina.

On their arrival at the valley, which was the headquarters of the tribe, the sheyk of the entire clan had laid claim to the principal captives, and had carried off the young lady and her uncle; and in his dwelling she had a boarded floor to sleep on, and had been made much more comfortable than in the squalid huts below.  Her original master, Yakoub, had, however, come to seize her, with the force described by Murad.  Then it was that again there was a threat to kill rather than resign them; but on this occasion it was averted by Sheyk Abderrahman’s son, a boy of about fourteen, who threw himself on his knees before Mademoiselle, and prayed his father earnestly for her life.