of the Emigration
Board.

And that he did escape, we are assured. For one morning he eludes the
grumpy officer, and sidles out among his Italian neighbours who were
permitted to land. See him genuflecting now, to kiss the curbstone
and thank Allah that he is free. But before he can enjoy his freedom,
before he can sit down and chuckle over the success of his escapade,
he must bethink him of Khalid. He will not leave him to the mercy of
the honourable Agents of the Law, if he can help it. Trachoma, he
knows, is a hard case to cure. And in ten days, under the care of the
doctors, it might become worse. Straightway, therefore, he puts
himself to the dark task. A few visits to the Hospital where Khalid is
detained--the patients in those days were not held at Ellis
Island--and the intrigue is afoot. On the third or fourth visit, we
can not make out which, a note in Arabic is slipt into Khalid's
pocket, and with a significant Arabic sign, Shakib takes himself off.

The evening of that very day, the trachoma-afflicted Syrian was absent
from the ward. He was carried off by Iblis,--the porter and a few
Greenbacks assisting. Yes, even Shakib, who knew only a few English
monosyllables, could here make himself understood. For money is one of
the two universal languages of the world, the other being love.
Indeed, money and love are as eloquent in Turkey and Dahomey as they
are in Paris or New York.

And here we reach one of those hedges in the _Histoire Intime_ which
we must go through in spite of the warning-signs. Between two
paragraphs, to be plain, in the one of which we are told how the two
Syrians established themselves as merchants in New York, in the other,
how and wherefor they shouldered the peddling-box and took to the
road, there is a crossed paragraph containing a most significant
revelation. It seems that after giving the matter some serious
thought, our Scribe came to the conclusion that it is not proper to
incriminate his illustrious Master. But here is a confession which a
hundred crosses can not efface. And if he did not want to bring the
matter to our immediate cognisance, why, we ask, did he not re-write
the page? Why did he not cover well that said paragraph with crosses
and arabesques? We do suspect him here of chicanery; for by this
plausible recantation he would shift the responsibility to the
shoulders of the Editor, if the secret is divulged. Be this as it may,
no red crosses can conceal from us the ast