He sees an Arab gipsy, a swarthy fellow of stalwart build, dressed in
the attractive costume of his race. John reads human nature fairly well,
and he believes he sees a man who can be depended on.

"This, monsieur, is Mustapha Cadi. You can depend upon him always," and
the clerk goes to his regular work.

The Arab makes the ordinary salutation, crossing his hands over his
breast, and bowing.

These people are very ceremonious, never entering a room or being seated
before a guest.

"You speak English?" asks John.

"Oh, yes!" smiling.

"I want to engage you in my service for some days, Mustapha Cadi."

"I have just come with a party from the wine caves of Chateau Hydra and
the cemetery on Bouzareah. I am now free, and in monsieur's service."

"Good! Your terms?"

"Two duros a day."

"I will make it four."

"Great is Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet. I shall not complain."