Miss Caprice Part 25

"May Mohammed, his prophet, make your life a blank. May your days end in torment, and your nights be sleepless."

"When you are done, most ill.u.s.trious _taleb_, allow me to speak. Even a dog should not be condemned unheard."

"Father, he is right; you are just, you are good; you condemn no man unheard. Let him speak; good may even come out of Chicago," says the lovely houri at the side of the Moor, and John thanks her with his eyes, mentally concluding that, after all, Moorish females, if nonent.i.ties on the street, have certain rights under their own roofs.

At this the great doctor frowns, but cannot withstand the angelic, appealing glance which his daughter bestows upon him.

"Perhaps it is so. What have you to say, you who bear that hated name?

Since through the kindness of my child you are given the opportunity to speak, embrace it."

The situation is a peculiar one, and John feels that he must make the most of it.

"Ill.u.s.trious Moor, listen then while I relate the reason for my presence, why for months I have searched country after country for one who ever seemed to be just beyond my reach, like a will-o'-the-wisp dancing over the swampy ground.

"The person I seek is known as Sister Magdalen. It is with no unworthy motive I would find her, Ben Taleb, for she is my mother."

At this the sheik and his daughter exchange significant glances.

Perhaps something of incredulity may be discovered in their expression.

Evidently they have heard but little of the story before, and only know that the troubles of the woman they revere came through a Craig.

John, having become stirred up, proceeds to tell them more of the past, and, while not caring to show emotion in the eyes of strangers, explains his feelings in the matter with a dignity that does him full justice.

While not thoroughly convinced, for he suspects there may be some artifice in this visit, the venerable Moor is inclined to look more favorably upon John.

"Perhaps you may not be so bad as I believed, but do not hope to receive news from me," is his slowly spoken remark.

John's heart sinks, he fears that after all his long search he is now to be frustrated by the stubborn will of an old man.

He even becomes eloquent in his appeal, and, while he fails to bring Ben Taleb to terms, he charms the sheik's daughter, whose lovely eyes glisten as she hears.

At last he wrings one promise from the Moor, to the effect that he will communicate with the lady in question, and stating the whole case, allow her to decide.

This is certainly fair enough, and Ben Taleb presumes to be a man who desires to do that which is right. Hence he agrees, but will not let John know whether news can be sent to him at the hotel on the morrow, or a week later. He must learn to practice the divine art of patience, and bide his time.

This, while a keen disappointment with regard to what he had expected and hoped for, is the best that can be done under the circ.u.mstances.

John is something of a philosopher.

When he has done his best, he is willing to trust the rest to fortune.

So he a.s.sumes a cheerfulness he is far from feeling, and a.s.sures Ben Taleb he will always be indebted to him for his kindness. After this he begs for a piece of paper, and the sheik sends one of his slaves for it.

John writes a line upon it, a line that comes from his heart:

"MY MOTHER: I have searched half of the world over for you.

JOHN ALEXANDER CRAIG."

If she ever reads that, the meeting will not long be delayed, he believes.

A short time is spent in the company of the sheik and his daughter, and as the young American admits that he is a doctor, the Moor shows new interest, asking various questions concerning some of the great events in the world of surgery that prove him to be a man far beyond his cla.s.s, and one who keeps abreast of the times.

Finally, as the hour grows apace, John thinks it time for him to be going.

Where is his courier, the faithful Mustapha Cadi, all this while?

As he mentions him, the sheik claps his hands and the guide appears. He enters into a brief conversation with Ben Taleb in the Moorish tongue.

John rightly guesses that the guide is relating the facts concerning their reaching the house, and that he fears they may be attacked, if they leave by the same way they entered.

The old Moor smiles, and after answering, turns to the young man from Chicago.

"There is another way of leaving this place, and one of my slaves will show you. They shall not harm one who comes to see Ben Taleb, if it can be prevented."

Then comes the ceremonious leave-taking, and John manages to get through this with credit. He has undoubtedly made a deep impression on the Moorish beauty, who, catching the crumbs falling from her father's table of knowledge, has aspirations above being the wife of a Moor, who may also have a harem.

At last they start off, with the slave in the lead, and after pa.s.sing through several rooms, which John views with interest, arrive at a wall.

Acting under the advice of his guide, John has a.s.sumed the burnoose again, for Mustapha carried it on his arm when he appeared.

"We will pa.s.s through this door, and reach another street. Are you ready, monsieur?"

John replies in the affirmative. The light is hidden under a basket, and then a sound is heard as of a door slowly opening.

"Pa.s.s through," whispers the guide.

Thus they reach the outside, and the wall resumes its innocent appearance. If they are fortunate, they will avoid the trouble that lay in wait at the door of the old Moor.

John no longer trembles in antic.i.p.ation of what is to come. He has been disappointed, and yet bears his burden well.

His guide is yet cautious, believing that one is not safe until out of the woods. It is possible word may have been sent around among the strolling Moors and Arabs of the old town, that a Frank is wandering about in a burnoose under the care of Mustapha Cadi, and hence discovery, with its attendant desperate conflict, still to come.

By degrees they approach the boundary line, and will soon be safe.

John is obliged to admire the diplomatic way in which the Arab conducts the retreat it would be creditable to a military strategist. They dodge and hide, now advancing, anon secreting themselves in dark corners.

At last--success!

Into the brilliant light of the new Algiers they pa.s.s; the danger is behind, safety a.s.sured.

Then Craig turns to the Arab, and tells him in plain language what he thinks of such remarkable work, and Mustapha humbly answers that he is glad the monsieur is satisfied.

Secretly, he exults in the eulogy; for even an Arab is able to appreciate praise.

Thus they bring up at the hotel.

John looks at the hour, and finds it ten. He sees the clerk nodding, and, as he repossesses himself of his valuables, accepts the other's congratulations with respect to having gone through such an experience, and lived to tell the tale.

Where are the others?

They do not seem to be about.