they move on.

Now their road ascends.

They are in Al Jezira, the old Arab town.

The passage is so narrow that at times John could easily touch the walls
of the spectral houses on either side by extending his arms.

Every little while there is a short step. Now and then an arch from
which hangs a queer lantern, burning dimly. Over a door, here and there,
a light marks the residence of some Moor or Arab of note. But for these
the passage-way would be totally dark, even on the brightest moonlight
night.

They meet bearded and turbaned Arabs, who stalk majestically along,
proud as Lucifer, even without a piastre in their purses--even women
vailed as usual, wearing anklets, and with their nails stained with
henna.

The men salute, and Mustapha replies, while the disguised young American
merely bows his head, which he has hidden after the manner of one who
mourns.

Thus they advance.

Presently they turn sharply to the left, and enter a dark passage.

"We will wait here a few minutes."

"But why?" asks the impatient doctor.

"You saw the group above descending, monsieur?"

"Yes."

"I recognized them as rival couriers. If they saw me they would glance
sharply at my companion. Perhaps for much duros they have some time
taken a Frank through Al Jezira at night. That would not count. If they
believed I did the same thing they would spread the news abroad, and I
am afraid we would have trouble. Better a little delay than that," and
he draws a finger across John's throat to signify the terrible stroke of
a vengeful yataghan.

"I think you are right," replies John.

They hear the group go by, laughing and joking, and the passage is again
clear.

"Again, forward, monsieur," whispers the faithful courier, and leaving
their hiding-place they push on.

They are in the heart of the old town, and a most singular sensation
comes over John as he looks all around to see the white walls, the
solemn figures moving about, and hears sounds that never before greeted
his ears.

It is as if he were in another world.

While he thus ponders and speculates, his companion comes to a sudden
halt. They are at the door of a house a little more conspicuous than its
fellows, and Mustapha hastily gives the rapper a resonant clang.

CHAPTER XIII.

A NIGHT IN ALGIERS.

His manner gives the man from Chicago to understand that he has cause
for sudden anxiety.

"What is it, Mustapha?" he whispers.

"Monsieur did not n