"M. Lemaire, you must have been a spy for a good many years. You have
been engaged so long in dishonest transactions that you are unable to
understand such a thing as common honesty."

"Do you call it honesty," demanded the Frenchman, with a bitter smile,
"to demand more than twenty thousand dollars for such an easily performed
service?"

"You idiot!" broke forth Jack, in sudden contempt. He was no longer
able even to play with this rascal. "Your offer is just as good as one
of a million dollars would be. I wouldn't take either!"

"What! You have been trifling with me?" demanded M. Lemaire, starting
forward.

Now the meaning of those few words in Arabic became plain enough. For
Mlle. Nadiboff, who had bent over, her hand toying with the sand,
suddenly clutched a handful of the fine grains and straightened up,
hurling the sand full in Benson's face.

In that same flashing instant Gaston darted behind the young American.
As the half-blinded young captain dodged back, the chauffeur caught him
around the neck, dragging him to the ground, while Lemaire sprang a-top
of the boy.

Jack fought desperately enough, but the two men rolled him over,
struggling to hold his hands. Then--

Click! Snap!