His first thought is of Mustapha, and he casts around for the Arab, whom he last saw close by the door of the hotel.

The dusky courier is near by, engaged in a little game with several companion guides, for the Arab as a rule loves gaming, and will risk everything but his horse.

When Mustapha catches his eye he comes up hastily, understanding there is something in the wind.

“We are to go again into the old town.”

“When, monsieur?”

“This night.  See!  Ben Taleb has sent me a message.”

The Arab looks at the paper stolidly; it might as well be Sanscrit to him.

“Read it, monsieur.”

So John complies, and his guide takes in all that is said.  He nods his head to show that he understands.

“This time I, too, will change my appearance, and they will not know that it is Mustapha Cadi who walks through the lanes of old Al Jezira with an unbeliever at his side.”

“A bright thought, Mustapha.  When shall we leave the hotel?”

“Say half past nine, meet me here.  I will have all arranged.  The burnoose is safe.”

John prepares for business.

He remembers that on the previous occasion he had need of weapons—­that they came very near an encounter with the natives—­and hence arms himself.

Before quitting the hotel he feels it incumbent upon himself to see Lady Ruth, and tell her where he is going.  Nothing like beginning early, you know.  She has already commenced to control his destiny.

Lady Ruth has a headache, and is bathing her brow with cologne in the privacy of her little boudoir parlor, but readily consents to see the young man.

“You’ll think me a fright, John, with my hair brushed back like this”—­John stops this in a thrice as any ardent lover might, taking advantage of the professor’s absence, and the fact that Aunt Gwen has gone back in the second room for another chair—­“but once in a great while I have a headache that will only succumb to a certain process.  You will excuse me?”

“Indeed, I sympathize with you; have had the same splitting headache myself more than a few times.  I wouldn’t have intruded—­”

“You know it’s no intrusion, John,” with reproach in her eyes.

“Kind of you to say so, my dear, but to the point I have heard from Ben Taleb.”

“Oh! your face tells me it is good news.”

“I am to visit him at ten.”

“To-night?”

“Yes.”

“But John, the danger.  You yourself told me it was no little thing to enter old Al Jezira in the night.  Those narrow lanes, with strange figures here and there, eying one fiercely; the houses that threaten to topple over on one’s head; all these things make it a risky place to wander in even during the daytime.  After dark it must be awful.”

So John describes the plan of action, and interests his affianced, who asks more questions about his former visit, not forgetting the marvelous beauty of the Moor’s daughter, for she is human.