"You've always got a fine vision for the dramatic." We passed on.

I suppose about twenty minutes had gone when, as we were entering the garden again, we heard loud cries.

Hurrying forward towards the Tanks, we saw a strange sight.
There, on a narrow wall dividing two great tanks, were three people--Mrs.Falchion, Amshar, and the rejected Arab guide.

Amshar was crouching behind Mrs.Falchion, and clinging to her skirts in abject fear.

The Arab threatened with a knife.