s 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.

Time flies under such circumstances, and hence it is John suddenly
exclaims:

"I declare, it's after nine o'clock."

"And my headache is gone."

At this both laugh.

"You must be a wizard, John, to charm it away so completely," she
declares.

"I trust I shall always be as successful in the days to come," breathes
John, and this of course causes a blush to sweep over the fair maid's
face.

He hurries to his room to prepare for what is before him. Deep in his
heart arises a prayer for success. Again that feeling of anticipation
sweeps over him. Remembering former disappointments, he endeavors to
subdue his hopes and to prepare for another set back, but this does not
prevent him at times from indulging in dreams of happiness.

It is just half-past nine when he reaches the door of the hotel.

Mustapha Cadi is there, looking confident and bearing a small bundle.
Again, in a dark corner, John assumes an Arab covering, while his
conductor proceeds to alter his own looks so that any whom they meet may
not know who the tall Arab is.

So they tread the lanes of the hill-side town. Just as on the previous
night, they meet Arabs, Moors, Kabyles, Jews and negroes. The silence is
like that of the tomb, and yet the interior of more than one house
doubtless presents a spectacle gay enough to please any lover of light
and color, of lovely women, of rippling fountains, sweet flowers that
load the air with their incense, and all the accessories a Moorish court
can devise, for these people, while keeping the exterior of their
dwellings plain, spend money lavishly upon the interior.

Now they are at the wall, and Mustapha gives the signal clearly; indeed,
John fancies the hilt of the knife meets the stone with more force than
is necessary, or else his ears deceive him.

The signal is heard, is answered, and in another minute t