curses blight your footsteps."

"You mistake--"

"May Mohammed, his prophet, make your life a blank. May your days end in
torment, and your nights be sleepless."

"When you are done, most illustrious _taleb_, allow me to speak. Even a
dog should not be condemned unheard."

"Father, he is right; you are just, you are good; you condemn no man
unheard. Let him speak; good may even come out of Chicago," says the
lovely houri at the side of the Moor, and John thanks her with his eyes,
mentally concluding that, after all, Moorish females, if nonentities on
the street, have certain rights under their own roofs.

At this the great doctor frowns, but cannot withstand the angelic,
appealing glance which his daughter bestows upon him.

"Perhaps it is so. What have you to say, you who bear that hated name?
Since through the kindness of my child you are given the opportunity to
speak, embrace it."

The situation is a peculiar one, and John feels that he must make the
most of it.

"Illustrious Moor, listen then while I relate the reason for my
presence, why for months I have searched country after country for one
who ever seemed to be just beyond my reach, like a will-o'-the-wisp
dancing over the swampy ground.