The House of the Falcon
on the sizable packing case on which the Tartar loafed.
The man scanned him with some suspicion and without making room for the burly native. Edith paused, holding her breath. She saw Aravang turn toward the guard as if to say something. The man stared at him from slant, cruel eyes that widened and started from their sockets as a steel-like hand flew up and closed about his throat.
No cry was uttered. Aravang still sat on the box. But in his two hands he held the writhing Tartar helpless.
Releasing one hand, Aravang thrust the other's bulletlike head against the stone wall. There was a dull crack and the figure of the guard slumped upon the. box.
"Some one is coming," said Donovan quietly, first in English then in Turki. Aravang stood up with knotted hands, as if prepared to face and conquer new enemies for the sake of his mistress. Edith, however, had seen Monsey and a party of his men walking toward the tower. They were armed and seemed in haste.
Urgent need spurred the girl's aroused wit. She could explain nothing to Aravang. Instead, she sprang forward, turned over the box and pointed into its empty depths.
Donovan caught her purpose at once and barked a short command at Aravang. Their powerful friend moved slowly, but with two motions of his great arms he had lifted the unconscious sentry from the floor where the man had slipped into the box. Then he turned the box right side up, over the body, concealing all trace of his victim.
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