Miss Caprice Part 28

"Later on, Aunt Gwen came and said we had better go outside to hear the music and see the crowd, so I came, but all the while I had been puzzling my brain wondering what she hoped to accomplish with that clever disguise, nor did the truth break in upon my mind until we discovered her talking to Doctor Chicago. Then I comprehended all."

"And I am again indebted to your clever woman's wit," he says, warmly.

"Who can tell from what dreadful fate I saved you," she laughs; "for this same Pauline seems determined that you shall not remain a merry bachelor all your days."

"So far as that is concerned, I quite agree with Pauline. Where we differ is upon the subject that shall be the cause of my becoming a Benedict. She chooses one person, and I chance to prefer another. That is all, but it is quite enough, as you have seen, Lady Ruth, to create a tempest in a tea-pot."

"Here we are at the hotel," she hastens to say, as if fearing lest he push the subject then and there to a more legitimate conclusion, for she has learned that these Chicago young men generally get there when they start; "and I am not sorry for one. Look around you, doctor!"

This he does for the first time, and is startled to discover that they have been accompanied across the square by at least half a dozen natives, who gaze upon John much as might wolves that were kept from attacking the sheep by the presence of faithful guards.

"They don't seem to bear me any good-will, I declare; but I am bound to prosecute my search in spite of every Arab in Algiers," is the only remark he makes, meeting glance for glance.

They have not yet succeeded in cowing the spirit in John Craig, though the man has a poor chance who incurs the vindictive race hatred of Mohammedan devotees in their own country.

The others enter also.

Sir Lionel, not a whit abashed by the failure of his grand plan for saving the life of Lady Ruth in the harbor of Malta, still haunts her shadow. He knows John Craig has a strong suspicion of the truth, but having read that young man's character before now, feels quite certain that he will not speak of the subject without positive proof, which he cannot secure.

Besides, the Briton came out of the affair with such hard luck, that there is much sympathy for him. He lives in the hope of retrieving his fallen fortunes.

Thus the little party breaks up, to meet again on the morrow.

John Craig's only hope now of success in his quest lies in the Moor, Ben Taleb. If the spirit so moves him, he can bring him and his mother face to face, but whether this will ever come to pa.s.s remains to be seen.

John, ere retiring, catches sight of the faithful Mustapha Cadi, who lounges near-by, and who makes a signal, as he catches his employer's eye, that brings Craig to his side.

"Where does the master sleep?" he asks.

John explains the position of his room, having some curiosity to know why the courier asks.

"Monsieur should be careful about leaving his windows open; Arabs climb well; vines very handy; yataghan make no shout. There is no disgrace in being prepared."

This is too broad to admit of any misinterpretation, and John again makes up his mind to continual watchfulness.

He retires to seek rest, to dream of a strange conglomeration of gray eyes, and black and brown--that he is compelled to choose between the English girl, the Chicago actress, and the Moorish beauty, while death waits to claim him, no matter which one he selects.

CHAPTER XV.

THE WRECKED STAGE.

John Craig takes all the precautions that the courier mentions, for he does not care to awaken in the night and find a dark-faced fanatic of a Mohammedan in his room, sworn to accomplish his death.

Perhaps his safety is in part due to this; at any rate morning comes and finds him undisturbed.

When he descends from his room he has a vague hope that some word may have come from Ben Taleb.

In this respect he is doomed to disappointment, for there is no letter.

So another day of waiting begins. The doctor is determined by nature, and has made up his mind that he will not give up his mission until he has accomplished that which he set out to perform, no matter if he spends weeks in the African city at the foot of the hills known as Sahel.

The others join him by degrees.

Such charming weather; a dozen trips for the day are proposed and rejected. All conclude to wait until after breakfast, when they will be in a condition to discuss the matter and decide just what is best to be done.

John is ready to join them and see the sights, for there is a chance that he may in this way run across the one he seeks, if she be moving about the city on errands of mercy, as becomes her order.

Besides, he places considerable dependence upon the promise of the old Moor.

So he enters into the discussion with a.s.sumed vigor, being magnetized now by the blue eyes of Lady Ruth.

They ask the advice of Mustapha Cadi, and he promises to show them many queer sights before the sun sinks behind the hills and the boom of the gun in the fortress announces the close of another day.

Thus, all of them prepare for a day's outing, and Lady Ruth looks quite charming in her jaunty costume, especially suited for such business.

John no longer remembers the dazzling beauty of the Moorish girl who sat at the feet of old Ben Taleb on the preceding night; it could not compare with the vivacious intelligence of an educated girl coming from the countries beyond the seas.

First of all they mount the terraces of Mustapha Superieur and enjoy the magnificent view of the city and harbor. Many modern yachts lie upon the blue waters, side by side with strange vessels peculiar to the Mediterranean, while the incoming steamer from Oran is just entering the harbor.

Upon this ridge above the city lie numerous palatial residences now occupied by French and English families, but which were once owned by the pirate kings of Algiers, whose names may often be found upon the gate post, cut in letters of gold.

From this eyrie they scanned the sea with their gla.s.ses, and the appearance of a sail in the dim distance would be the signal for a mad chase to see which piratical felucca could first overhaul the stranger.

Uncle Sam had something to do with breaking up this tremendous pirates'

den, and France has since redeemed it.

Thus a considerable portion of the morning is consumed in this pleasant engagement. They take an omnibus now for the Arab village of Birkadeen, in among the hills, where new and novel sights will be looked upon.

Every female they meet arouses John's interest, and he looks sharply at the half-hidden face. The hope he cherishes is always before him, and when Lady Ruth notices his eager actions she understands just what it means, and is as anxious in one way as himself.

One thing annoys the American; this is the persistence with which Sir Lionel keeps up as a member of the little company. He makes himself agreeable all around, and as John has had no proof of the Briton's miserable work in the harbor of Malta, he is wise enough to restrain his feelings and hold his tongue, trusting to some future event to tear off the mask and reveal him in his true colors.

At noon they are in the village, and stop to eat their lunch at an Arab tavern, where they fare pretty well, though John is ready to make a vow never to again touch the native dish of Kuskusu which is set before them.

They see strange things at Birkadeen, and from there continue their journey to other villages, Bermandries, and El-Biar, at each of which Mustapha has something odd to show them that will ever remain a pleasant memory in the future.

It is a day John Craig will never forget for more reasons than one; a day marked with a white stone because of the pleasure he enjoys in the society of this bright English girl whom he has ere now learned to love, and a day that must always remain prominent in his mind because it precedes a night that is the most memorable in all his history.

In more ways than one does Lady Ruth, while always acting as a lady, show that she prefers his society to that of Sir Lionel, and though the British soldier appears unruffled on the surface, he is undoubtedly deeply piqued.

So the hours wear on.

The sun is low in the west, and the ever watchful Mustapha declares it is time they started for the city. They have enjoyed a ride on the s.h.i.+p of the desert, as the camel is called, admired the Arabian steeds, which all the money of an unbeliever or Christian dog could not purchase, and looked upon many strange scenes.

Several times during the afternoon they have been temporarily separated.

The baronet appears to have a deep interest in the queer things to be seen in the Arab village, for more than once he lingers behind to ask questions as he explains, in the hope of purchasing some article that has particularly caught his fancy.