Dick Merriwell's Pranks Part 31

She lay p.r.o.ne and helpless and despairing when a rustling sound startled and aroused her. She rose swiftly on one hand, and then a cry of astonishment escaped her pale lips, for before her stood a beautiful girl. Behind the stranger the door was silently closing.

"Who-who-are-you?" asked Nadia hoa.r.s.ely.

"Your friend," was the answer, in a softly sympathetic voice.

"Friend? You are a stranger."

"Still I am your friend. Let me help you."

"Your voice!" muttered Nadia. "It seems familiar, somehow, and yet-I've never seen you before."

The strange girl a.s.sisted Nadia to rise, and led her to a couch. She was much larger than Nadia, and seemed somewhat older.

"My poor child!" she murmured. "How you have suffered!"

"Oh, how I have suffered!" moaned Nadia. "But why are you here? I do not understand it. You-you are English or American. You cannot be--"

"Hus.h.!.+ Do not speak so loud."

"No one can hear us. I have screamed until I lost my voice. These terrible walls smother all sounds."

The strange girl was looking around searchingly. Leaving Nadia, she made a quick circuit of the room, searching the walls with her eyes. She paused to try the door and then returned to the couch.

"Listen," she whispered, lifting her finger warningly. "Keep your nerve now. Do not utter a cry. I am here to save you."

Nadia showed her incredulity.

"To save me?" she whispered back. "How can that be? Who are you?"

"One of your best friends."

"I will not believe it! It is another trick!"

"It is no trick, as far as you are concerned. It may be a trick on Hafsa Pasha."

"Then he--"

"You are his captive."

"I knew it! The monster! If my brother-if Brad and d.i.c.k find this out he shall suffer!"

"If you promise to do just as I direct I will save you from that man."

"How can you? You are only a woman."

"That's what I appear to be."

"You cannot be more than nineteen."

"Younger than that," was the reply. "Still I will save you."

"It's impossible! They brought you here to deceive me!"

"That's correct. Old Hafsa did it himself, but he is the one deceived.

To-night he paid a handsome price for me, with the idea of adding me to his harem. Oh, I must laugh! I must! Where's my handkerchief! Let me smother the sound!"

The strange girl stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth and laughed until her face was fairly purple. Her whole body shook with merriment.

Nadia's bewilderment increased.

"I don't know why you laugh. It's a fearful thing to be imprisoned in a harem. Hafsa Pasha has bought you, and you must submit to him. You must be a faithful wife, imprisoned within a harem."

"Oh, a fine old wife I'll make!" chuckled the other. "Oh, dear! It's a mighty dangerous lark, but it's awful funny, just the same."

Suddenly Nadia clutched her companion's shoulder.

"Tell me who you are!" she commanded.

"All right. Keep your nerve. Don't utter a sound. Are you ready?"

Nadia nodded.

"I am d.i.c.k Merriwell."

The girl almost fainted.

"d.i.c.k?" she gasped-"d.i.c.k? Impossible! Yet-yet I believe you-you are!

Why, how--"

"Can't explain in full. Fooled old Hafsa. If Ras al Had does not fail me we'll have you out of this before morning. If Hafsa only knew--"

A sound behind him caused d.i.c.k to turn and spring up.

The door had opened to admit Hafsa Pasha himself, and his face was contorted with rage. He glared at d.i.c.k.

"So you did fool me, did you?" he snarled. "You thought I could not hear your words, but there is a place in this wall where a person listening outside may hear and understand the softest whisper spoken here. You deceived me, but it will cost you your life!"

He drew a knife.

From some part of his clothes d.i.c.k Merriwell whipped forth a heavy revolver, which he leveled at the Turk's heart.

"Halt right where you are!" he commanded clearly. "Another step and I'll drill a hole through your dastardly heart! I came prepared for any emergency."

Hafsa Pasha uttered a cry. It was answered somewhere outside the room.

But at that moment there came from a distant portion of the house the sound of heavy, cras.h.i.+ng blows.

The Turk turned pale.