John, ere retiring, catches sight of the faithful Mustapha Cadi, who
lounges near-by, and who makes a signal, as he catches his employer's
eye, that brings Craig to his side.

"Where does the master sleep?" he asks.

John explains the position of his room, having some curiosity to know
why the courier asks.

"Monsieur should be careful about leaving his windows open; Arabs climb
well; vines very handy; yataghan make no shout. There is no disgrace in
being prepared."

This is too broad to admit of any misinterpretation, and John again
makes up his mind to continual watchfulness.

He retires to seek rest, to dream of a strange conglomeration of gray
eyes, and black and brown--that he is compelled to choose between the
English girl, the Chicago actress, and the Moorish beauty, while death
waits to claim him, no matter which one he selects.




CHAPTER XV.

THE WRECKED STAGE.


John Craig takes all the precautions that the courier mentions, for he