one.

"It is too bad."

"Mustapha, speak out."

"He will come after a while."

"Yes, yes."

"And he will find no Bab Azoun, no band of illustrious robbers to do
battle with."

John's mind instantly hits upon flight as the cause for all this.

"Why do you speak so?"

"This wonderful soldier, he do it all; by the mighty power of his arm he
will overcome the hosts of Bab Azoun. Great is Allah, and Mohammed is
his prophet; but I have never seen such a thing before in all my life."

Then the exquisite, dry humor of the thing strikes John, and with such
force that he comes very near bursting with laughter.

He has not the slightest desire to do anything that will bring about a
change in the plan. So long as Lady Ruth is rescued from her unpleasant
position, it matters little what the means are.

Hence, he watches the development of matters with a keen interest. It is
not long before he is in a position to see that there is solid truth in
his suspicions. The actions of Sir Lionel confirm the fact that he has
been induced to compromise his honor in order to succeed with John as a
rival.

When the divine spark touches the heart, it causes men to do strange
things.

Here is one who in times past has been very jealous of his honor, and
would as soon cut off his hand as compromise himself. Yet, reduced to
sore straits by the success of a rival, he now descends the scale, and
schemes as cleverly as any rascally adventurer.

The critical period draws near, and our military hero can scarce
restrain his valor. Indeed, he shows symptoms of wanting to rush out and
annihilate the whole band of Arabs and Moors, but Lady Ruth restrains
him, as though she is clever enough to see the folly of a move too
premature.

It is a picturesque scene, and one that John will never forget. The
grotto alone has charming features, since the walls are white and
incrusted with some metallic substance that shines like silver.

On either side can be seen giant stalactites dependant from the roof,
looking like mighty columns to support the dome.

The fire and the torches illumine the scene, until it looks like one of
enchantment. The strange costumes of the nomads, with the various colors
they boast, add to the romantic nature of the exposition, and his must
be a poor soul, indeed, that fails to catch something of artistic fervor
when such a picture appears in view.

There were twenty of Bab Azoun's men present an hour before, but now
o