Dick Merriwell's Pranks: or, Lively Times in the Orient. Standish Burt L.
sure would hate to have that gent place his paws on me in violence,” observed Buckhart. “I opine he’s some powerful.”
“He looks like a Hercules,” said Dick.
“He made me extremely nervous,” confessed the professor. “I think I’ll inform the proprietor that we would much prefer having some one else attend us while we are here.”
“Don’t!” exclaimed Merriwell. “I rather fancy the Nubian.”
They lounged about for a time after eating, but finally the professor made an excuse to leave the boys, saying he would return soon.
“Pard,” chuckled Buckhart, when Zenas was gone, “the old boy did get a plenty smashed on the woman from Boston.”
“I’m glad we got him away from her – and from Major Fitts.”
“And I’m glad we won’t be bothered any more by that sneaking Turk, Aziz Achmet, who seemed spying on us. Wonder what Aziz took us for. I believe he was some sort of Turkish confidence man. He was a heap eager to act as Major Fitts’ second in a duel.”
“Think of Zenas Gunn in a duel!” exclaimed Dick, and they laughed heartily.
After a while Merriwell became worried over the professor’s protracted absence. Going to the door, he stepped outside.
He stepped into full view of two men, who were whispering in the shadows of a draped alcove.
One was the giant Nubian.
The other was Aziz Achmet, the mysterious Turk!
CHAPTER III – THE PERSISTENCE OF ACHMET
There was something decidedly ominous and sinister in the behavior of the coal-black giant and the silent, secretive Turk, who were whispering there in the shadows. In spite of himself, Dick felt a sudden faint chill, like an icy breath, sweep over him.
He stood quite still and regarded them steadily. They saw him, and their whispering stopped. The eyes of the tattooed black man seemed to gleam with a baleful fire, but his dark face remained as unchangeable as marble.
Slowly a strange smile overspread the countenance of Achmet. With a quick, silent step, he advanced toward the boy. He spoke in a low, soft tone:
“So you are safely here, my lad? I see no harm has befallen you.”
His English was almost perfect.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Dick. “This is not a place in which one of your faith should choose to linger, with the City of the Faithful so near. Indeed, I have been told that the better men of your religion never deign to contaminate themselves by setting foot in this place, which is polluted by the infidel. Your conduct is suspicious, to say the least.”
“It is seldom one who may not be well suspected is in such haste to suspect another,” retorted the Turk, still with that strange, faint smile which was very annoying to the boy.
Indignation swelled within Dick’s heart, for now he was fully satisfied that they were being spied upon by this man.
“Look here,” he said, “you’ll get into trouble if you continue to follow us about.”
“Be careful that you do not get into far more serious trouble.”
“There is no reason why we should get into trouble, for we have a way of minding our own business.”
“Then you are the first Americans I have seen who have that excellent habit,” retorted Achmet, in a manner that became more and more insulting.
Had Dick not learned by example and practice to control his temper, he might have lost his head. He kept cool, however – outwardly, at least.
“It is plain you have been spying on us,” he said. “We caught you in our stateroom on the steamer – ”
“An accident.”
“An accident, perhaps, that we caught you. It was no accident that you were there. What’s your game, man? You are up to some rascally business.”
“I like not your lack of politeness, boy. I am not the one to answer questions. It is you who should explain, but I will talk with the man whom you call professor.”
“I don’t know whether you will or not.”
“I demand to see him.”
“You will have to find him.”
“Is he not in those rooms?”
“No.”
“Let me see.”
The manner of Achmet plainly denoted that he did not believe Dick.
“We have engaged those rooms and paid in advance for them,” said Merriwell, still holding himself in check. “We are entitled to privacy in them, and we have no intention of admitting strange and suspicious visitors, especially a Turk of your questionable behavior.”
“You refuse me admittance?”
“Decidedly.”
Aziz Achmet made a quick sign to the black giant. Instantly the Nubian strode forward. Dick made a move to retreat, but the arm of the black man darted out and one powerful hand seized the lad. Merriwell had not overestimated the probable strength of the tattooed man, for, with scarcely an effort, it seemed, the boy was lifted from his feet and placed to one side.
Achmet quickly advanced to the door, flung it open, and entered the room.
Brad Buckhart had caught the hum of voices outside and was crossing the room to investigate when he found himself face to face with the Turk.
“Waugh!” exclaimed the Texan, in surprise.
“Pardon, boy,” said Achmet, still maintaining his quiet manner and soft speech. “I would speak with the professor.”
“Is that so?” said Brad. “Well, whoever invited you to walk in all unceremonious and chirklike? It strikes me that you are some forward in your deportment. Where’s my pard?”
“Here!” cried Dick, who had been released by the Nubian, and who now hastened into the room. “This man forced an entrance. He has dogged us here, Brad.”
“Dogged is a proper word for it, I reckon!” grated the Texan, beginning to bridle. “Forced his way in, did he? Well, I judge we’ll just shoot him out on his neck and teach him a bit of common decency!”
He proceeded to strip off his coat in a very businesslike manner.
“Hold!” commanded Achmet. “You will regret it, you infidel whelp, if you place your vile hands on me!”
“Whoop!” roared the Westerner. “We’ll sure see about that right away! Come on, partner!”
But now the Nubian stalked into the room, apparently ready to take a hand in the encounter, and Achmet called attention to him.
“This man alone,” he declared, “is more than the equal of twenty boys. He once slew a strong man with a single blow of his fist. If you lift a finger against me he will rend you. Be careful!”
In spite of this warning Buckhart would have pitched in; but Dick had better judgment and hastened to restrain his friend.
“The black man is dangerous, Brad,” he said, in a low tone. “Unless we use deadly weapons, he can master us alone. Besides that, we do not wish to kick up an uproar unless forced to do so. Steady, old man!”
“Whoop!” cried Brad. “This business is making me sizzle a heap!”
“It is an outrage, and we’ll enter a complaint.”
“You bet your boots!”
“That is your privilege,” smiled Achmet, in his half-sneering way. “When I am through, you may complain as much as you like; but first bring forth the professor, that I may question him. Why is he hiding?”
“Hiding? Do you think he would hide from you?” exclaimed Dick. “I tell you he is not here. Look