ABSTRACT
My guide left me at the door of the Sheik's house, an ancient building four stories high, with a spiral stair, built doubtless for strategic reasons, narrow and steep, lighted only by occasional slits in the wall. A slave to whom I surrendered my letter, led me into a dark little room in which twenty Arabs sat about, chewing the green shoots of kat. In a few words, I related the story of the stolen cargo and my quest of Ca,iman, the fugitive. But no such steamer had entered the port of Moka. In case it should, the Sheik promised me to lure the ea ptain on land and to hold him prisoner till my return. For my part, I guaranteed a reward of 1,000 francs payable when the prisoner was turned over to me. Inquiries made in town and along
the beach brought no further information. Absolutely no one had seen the Caimarn nor any ship like it. The steamer had evidently avoided the port; perhaps it lay at anchor among the Hanish Islands, the only possible hiding place for a boat of its dimensions.
