Frank had to remind himself of why he had come to England, as he rode over the rough roads toward Lady Davenport's Coventry Manor . When he had showed up on the doorstep at her London townhouse he had been informed by a very dignified manservant that Lady Davenport was not in her London residence this time of year. He did not invite Frank inside but provided him with directions to the manor as well as advice on the best posting houses if he chose to stay the night and break the trip into two days. Frank had smiled at the man, and said,

"No thanks partner, I'll just ride on through." As he turned to leave Frank looked back around at the expressionless servant saying with a tilt of his head, "Anyway, I think she's expecting me."

The well trained butler had not given anything away. However, Frank had the sneaking suspicion that the man had been informed that he would be arriving. There had been no questions asked and much information given, Frank knew Lady Anne's character well enough to know that she had not hired the butler for those trademarks. Obviously, Mr. Teague was in league with Lady Davenport. Frank had untied his brown mustang from the hitching post and with all the eyes of London on him, he rode out of the city.

He had stopped to water his horse at the Coachman's Inn along the road and when he saw the meat pie and beer they were serving the customers, decided to eat food he had packed himself. It was dusk, he still had thirty miles to go and Frank was determined to make it. Lady Davenport had hatched some new plot, it had involved the Sheik, and now it also involved him, because Frank knew there was only one reason that woman had the stallion Al-Hattal. Sheik Riyadh must have died. The thought pulled down the corners of Frank's mouth. He remembered Jazira's "Come quickly. Blue C", and urged his horse to go faster. He had to know what had happened.

It was dark, but the moon was full when Frank reached the manor with it's low stone wall and wide entrance, characteristics he had been told to look for. The house was set far back on a knoll, there was only one light shining in the far corner window. Everything was still and quiet, a light breeze was bringing the sweet smell of grassy pasture and jasmine. The mustang snorted. Frank spied the stables on his left and decided to tie his horse outside, and bed down right under the stars. Perhaps just lurking outside would not arouse Lady Davenport's chestnuts and wake up the groom.

Al-Hattal flinched, then he snorted, his ears twitched and he stood up and snorted again. Jazira opened her eyes and watched him. The other horses were used to Al-Hattal's false alarms, they remained quiet and resting. Al-Hattal stomped one hoof and snorted again. Jazira sat up. The stallion's ears continued to twitch and he threw his luxuriant head in her direction with alert eyes. Jazira stood and rubbed his neck straining to hear what he had. Then she too heard movement, just outside the open stable door. Phillips had secretly run off to the tavern, he would not be back until early morning. But someone was definitely outside. Jazira whispered in Al-Hattal's ear,

"Shhh, give me a chance to catch them by surprise first! I won't let anyone hurt you."

The chestnuts were now on their feet as well, snorting the air for the new scent only they picked up. Jazira's nerves were alive. What if someone had come to steal the stallion? She would never get help from the house. As she crept forward on her bare feet she picked up the pitchfork leaning in the corner. Moonlight poured in through the open door, giving everything about her a dream like quality. Perhaps she was dreaming, her dreams seemed so real. She paused at the stable door only to catch a nervous breath, then she leaped outside, pitchfork ready and asked in her most menacing tone,

"Who are you?"

Frank who had just sat down on the grass, shot up like a bullet leaving the barrel. The mustang whinnied and stepped away from him and the threatening voice. Frank's hands were up, one still holding his Stetson and he said,

"Hold on there just a minute!"

Suddenly, the pitchfork fell to the ground and the female voice asked again in a suddenly soft and tremulous way, "Who are you?"