Taking this remark as a signal that we were dismissed, we salaamed as before, and retired down the garden. We had reached the entrance, when a slave overtook us, and informed us that his master would allow us to sleep in a guest-room, opening into an outer court-yard, on one side of the main entrance. Mr Vernon told me afterwards, that not having any definite plan, he thought it would be wise to accept the Sheikh's offer with a good grace, as more likely not to excite suspicion. The room to which we were shown was a small one, without windows or furniture, some little apertures over the entrance alone admitting light and air when the door was shut. It had the advantage, however, of enabling us to get out without being observed. Still a great difficulty remained--how we were to obtain any information about Miss Norman in the first place, and how we were to gain access to her in the second. In my character of a slave, I assisted the Sheikh's slaves in bringing in the box of jewels, the saddle-bags, and saddles, and horse-cloths, as well as our blankets, which we had brought to form our beds at night. Our room being arranged, Mr Vernon told me to remain within, while he went out to try and obtain some information in the village, advising me in the meantime to amuse myself with my fiddle, which had already delighted the ears of many of the believers of the Prophet of Mecca during our long journey. I had some misgivings about his going, for I was afraid that the villagers might suspect his character, and might ill-treat him. For myself I had no fear as long as I could continue to feign dumbness, as my character was easily kept up. He had told the Sheikh's people that I was a Nazarene lad, who was ignorant of their language. Being dumb, they considered me under the peculiar care of Providence. After a little time, having recovered my spirits and cast all forebodings from me--which are, after all, but the result of a morbid imagination, or of a want of trust in God's providence,--I sat myself down on the chest, and pulling my fiddle out of its case, began playing away most vigorously some of the old tunes Hanks had taught me. I had gone through some five or six of them, when a voice, which I felt sure I had often heard, hailed-- "Hillo! shipmate, what part of the world do you come from?" The faint light which came through the door was obscured by the figure of a seaman. "Why!" I exclaimed, forgetting that I was dumb, as he stepped into the room,--"why, if I can believe my senses, there is Jack Stretcher himself." "What! is that you, Mr D'Arcy?" he answered; coming up to me, and taking my hand. "I should not have known you in that rum rig, sir, if it hadn't been for your voice, I declare."