"Very neat! I see it all, except the connection with Miss Gilder. What
has your saint got to do with her?"

"Very little, I should say, by the look in her eyes. But though a green
turban's as good as an heirloom, and extorts respect wherever it goes,
even a Hadji may have jealous detractors. I have mine. Another green
turban in this town, whose genuineness is doubted for some obscure
reason or other, has sneered at my dream."

"I say! That sounds as if you might be in danger. If one man suspects
you to-day, to-morrow------"

"Oh, it's only the dream he suspects--at present. I know all the little
prayer tricks so well, and I've invented my own history so ingeniously,
with a _patois_ to match my province, that I shall get through this
incident as I have through others of the sort. There's only one hole in
my jebbah. Last night, when my rival sprang a sudden question as to
what I was doing in Cairo (I'm supposed to be a Luxor man), on the spur
of the moment I replied that I was acting as dragoman to a rich family
of tourists. On that, the brute inquired with honeyed accents where
they were staying. I said Shepheard's, because I expected you to be
there, and thought if I were followed, you might be useful as a dummy."

"Ah, that's where Miss Gilder comes in? A gilded gingerbread lamb,
ready for the sacrifice. Why didn't you accept her offer at once, as
she seemed so providential?" "I'm coming to that. It sounds
complicated, but it isn't. For one thing, though, it may be well to
wait and find out a little more about that goat-eyed Armenian of
yours."