CHAPTER XIV.
THE COMING OF MISS CAPRICE.
This sudden impulse on the part of the young Chicago doctor may be themeans of getting him into trouble, for no people are more quick toresent an insult, either fancied or real, to females upon the street,than those of Algeria, Egypt, or Turkey.
Woman is not an equal there, but a highly prized possession, and mustnever appear upon the street with her face unvailed, so that any mancaught tearing the foutah of a lady from her face would be severelydealt with.
John, of course, is only desirous of seeing whether this may be hismother, but the public will hardly take this fact into consideration.
Upon so suddenly conceiving this bold plan of action, John Craig hastenshis footsteps, and there is need of hurry, if he hopes to overtake thefigure in black before she leaves the square, for, as if conscious thatshe is pursued, she has also quickened her pace.
He overhauls her just on the outskirts of the Place du Gouvernement, andas he brushes past quickly raises his hand to snatch aside the flowingvail.
Again his heart almost stands still, and the sacred word "mother"trembles on his lips, as he bends forward to get a quick glance of theface that must be disclosed by the shifting of the vail.
His quick movement is not without its result. The vail is drawn aside,and John Craig receives a staggering blow as he gazes upon theshriveled countenance of an old woman.
It is impossible that this can be his mother--perish the thought!--andyet the garb is one seldom seen on the streets of Algiers.
His almost palsied hand drops the vail. Lucky for him will it be if nojealous Moor's eyes have seen the action.
The Sister does not cry out, and call upon those who are present toavenge the insult--even had she been a Moorish lady, the demand forpunishment would not come from her, but from those of the sterner sexnear-by.
Instead, she stands there as if waiting for him to speak--stands therelike a statue in black.
John at once apologizes for his rudeness--he is already sorry for whathe has done.
"Madame, pardon. I believed you were one very dear to me, one who wearsthe insignia of your order, one for whom I have searched far and near,half the world over--my mother."
"It was a bold act, young sir, but far be it from me to denounce you.Tell me, how would you know this mother?" she asks, in a thick voice.
"She is known as Sister Magdalen--perhaps you know her--she may even bestaying at the same convent as yourself," eagerly.
"I know one Sister Magdalen, a sweet, quiet woman, lately from Malta,whither she went to consult the head of our order."
Her words arouse John.
"It is she. If you would only take me to her, I would at once be rid ofall these doubts and fears."
"Would you come?"
John has forgotten the warning of Mustapha, forgotten all formerexperiences. There is a crowd gathering around them, and this is one ofthe things he was to guard against, still he pays little attention tothis fact, his mind is so bent upon accomplishing his object.
"Eagerly. Once this night I have risked much to find my mother, and I amready to do more."
"Then follow me. Better still, walk at my side, for I see ugly facesaround. You have made enemies, but I will stand between. My garb issacred, and they will respect it."
"I am ready, lead on."
What is this that plucks at his sleeve? He half-turns impatiently, andlooks into a face he ought to know full well, but which he now sees withsomething of annoyance.
"Ah! professor, is it you? Sorry--in something of a hurry--"
"Hold on; some one wants to see you."
"Have to do later."
"Don't say so, John. Important, I tell you."
"So is this. Good-by."
The professor is not so easily shaken off, but tightens his hold. Johnwill have to dislodge him by muscular force.
"Are you coming?" asks the Sister.
"Yes, when I have broken loose from the hands of this madman."
He turns upon the professor.
"John, be careful. Cool off; you are excited."
"I'm of an age to take care of myself. When I need a guardian, I'll callon you. Once more I say, release your grasp."
He actually looks ugly for the moment, and Philander does let go, butit is only because, as an advance courier, he has accomplished hismission, and not on account of any fear.
As Doctor Chicago turns to follow the Sister, he draws in a long breath,for he finds himself face to face with Lady Ruth.
She has hurried up behind Philander, and near-by can be seen the Britishsoldier and Aunt Gwen, also pushing forward as rapidly as the assemblingcrowd will allow.
"Doctor Craig."
Her presence recalls John to his senses.
"I am going to see my mother, Lady Ruth," he says, as if apologizing forhis rudeness.
"With whom?"
"This Sister."
Lady Ruth surveys the other from her vail to the hem of her dress.
"I would advise you not to do so, doctor."
"Why do you say that?" he asks, astonished.
"Because you will regret it, because you are being made the victim ofanother plot."
"Lady Ruth, do I hear aright? Do you fully realize what it is you say?"
"I am conscious of the gravity of the charge, but that does not preventme from asserting it. I repeat what I said before, that you are againthe victim of a plot. As to this Sister here, can it be possible you donot know her?"
He shakes his head.
"Have you seen her face?"
"It is old and shriveled--that of a stranger."
At this the Sister throws back her vail, and they see the features Johndescribes.
"After all I am right," says John, with the air of a man who attempts tojustify himself.
At that the English girl laughs scornfully.
"Really, I did not think men could be so easily deceived, and one whomI considered as shrewd as you, Doctor Chicago. See what a miserabledeception, a fraud transferred from the boards of a New York theater toAlgiers. Behold! the magic wand touches age with a gentle touch, andwhat follows?"
Lady Ruth is standing between the two, and within arm's length ofeither.
The Sister has not moved, but, as if confident of influencing John,holds her own. She shoots daggers with her eyes at the English girl,but looks cannot hurt.
As Lady Ruth utters her last words, she makes a sudden move.
With a dexterous fling of an arm she succeeds in tearing from theSister's face the cleverly-made thin stage mask that was contrived toconceal the features of one who did a double act.
The professor laughs.
From the crowd that is still gathering various sounds arise, for no onecan even give a guess as to the nature of the peculiar trick which isthus being enacted.
As for John Craig, he holds his breath at the stupendous nature of thedisclosure, for little as he has dreamed of the fact, he sees before himthe well-known features of Pauline Potter.
This queen of the stage has made even another attempt to get John, andmight have succeeded only for the opportune coming of his friends.
He backs away from her.
"So, it is you again, wretched girl?" he exclaims, in something ofrighteous wrath.
She has lost once more, but this is frolic to one of her nature, andshe laughs in his face.
"Oh, it's a long road that has no turning, and my chance will yet come!Bah! I snap my fingers at such weak friendship. Good-night, all of you,but not good-by."
Thus she disappears.
Craig feels abashed.
He has almost come to blows with his best friend about this female, and,after all, she turns out to be the plotting Pauline.
"I think I need a guardian," he murmurs, as if rather disgusted withhimself.
"From the ugly looks some of these chaps are bending on you, I thinkditto," declares Philander, nor are his words without meaning, for thenatives scowl dreadfully.
"Lady Ruth, I owe you thanks; but, while we walk to the hotel, tell mehow you came to know she was masquerading in that style."
"It is easily told, sir. A mere accident put me in possession of thefacts, and, thank Heaven, I am able to build two and two together. Youwere frank enough, Doctor Craig, to give me certain particularsconcerning that creature's plotting, and that confidence has now bornefruit.
"Listen, then. I was in the hotel, in my room. Some freak of fortuneplaced her in the apartment opposite. Knowing what presumably broughther to Algiers, the desire to have revenge upon you, I entertained afeeling of almost contempt for a woman who could so forget her sex andseek a man who loved her not. If it were I whom you jilted, DoctorChicago, I would freeze you with scorn."
"Jove! I don't doubt it, Lady Ruth, but please Heaven you will neverhave the chance," he says, in a half-serious, half-joking way.
"To return to my story, then," she continues, blushing under the ardentlook that has accompanied his words, "the queer part of it lies in thefact that a transom over my door was partly open. There was a blackpaper back of the glass, which gave it the properties of a mirror.
"Over her door was a similar contrivance, and as I sat there in thedarkness of my room, pondering over what has happened, my attention wasattracted by a flash of light, and, looking up, I saw the interior ofher room as plainly as though looking through the door--saw her assumethe garb of a Sister--saw her try on that horrible face-mask before amirror, and realized that the clever actress, Pauline Potter, was aboutto again undertake some quixotic crusade in the furtherance of her plans.
"Later on, Aunt Gwen came and said we had better go outside to hearthe music and see the crowd, so I came, but all the while I had beenpuzzling my brain wondering what she hoped to accomplish with thatclever disguise, nor did the truth break in upon my mind until wediscovered 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; "forthis same Pauline seems determined that you shall not remain a merrybachelor all your days."
"So far as that is concerned, I quite agree with Pauline. Where wediffer is upon the subject that shall be the cause of my becoming aBenedict. She chooses one person, and I chance to prefer another. Thatis all, but it is quite enough, as you have seen, Lady Ruth, to createa tempest in a tea-pot."
"Here we are at the hotel," she hastens to say, as if fearing lest hepush the subject then and there to a more legitimate conclusion, for shehas learned that these Chicago young men generally get there when theystart; "and I am not sorry for one. Look around you, doctor!"
This he does for the first time, and is startled to discover thatthey have been accompanied across the square by at least half a dozennatives, who gaze upon John much as might wolves that were kept fromattacking the sheep by the presence of faithful guards.
"They don't seem to bear me any good-will, I declare; but I am boundto prosecute my search in spite of every Arab in Algiers," is the onlyremark he makes, meeting glance for glance.
They have not yet succeeded in cowing the spirit in John Craig, thoughthe man has a poor chance who incurs the vindictive race hatred ofMohammedan devotees in their own country.
The others enter also.
Sir Lionel, not a whit abashed by the failure of his grand plan forsaving the life of Lady Ruth in the harbor of Malta, still haunts hershadow. He knows John Craig has a strong suspicion of the truth, buthaving read that young man's character before now, feels quite certainthat he will not speak of the subject without positive proof, which hecannot secure.
Besides, the Briton came out of the affair with such hard luck, thatthere is much sympathy for him. He lives in the hope of retrieving hisfallen 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, BenTaleb. If the spirit so moves him, he can bring him and his mother faceto face, but whether this will ever come to pass remains to be seen.
John, ere retiring, catches sight of the faithful Mustapha Cadi, wholounges near-by, and who makes a signal, as he catches his employer'seye, that brings Craig to his side.
"Where does the master sleep?" he asks.
John explains the position of his room, having some curiosity to knowwhy the courier asks.
"Monsieur should be careful about leaving his windows open; Arabs climbwell; vines very handy; yataghan make no shout. There is no disgrace inbeing prepared."
This is too broad to admit of any misinterpretation, and John againmakes up his mind to continual watchfulness.
He retires to seek rest, to dream of a strange conglomeration of grayeyes, and black and brown--that he is compelled to choose between theEnglish girl, the Chicago actress, and the Moorish beauty, while deathwaits to claim him, no matter which one he selects.
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