That strange rover has seen many queer things in his life, and, heavily armed with the weapons he carries, might be looked upon as a dangerous customer. After ejecting the youth in such an unceremonious manner, and closing the door, to which there is no bolt or lock, his next act is to unfasten his coat, so that the terrible weapon in his belt may be disclosed, and strike fear to the enemy’s heart. Then he raises his hand to his neck. “For Heaven’s sake, don’t draw that terrible blade yet,” whispers Aleck, watching the motion. “The appeal is carried, but it’s only a question of time,” answers the other, _sotto voce_. “Come, we must advance. Lead the way, my dear fellow,” announces Craig, for the thunder of Turkish music in the narrow street deadens the sound of voices so thoroughly that they need have little fear of being overheard. Thus they move along the erratic passage. Wycherley serves as the picket line, stealing on tiptoe, his whole demeanor that of a person upon whom the success or failure of the play depends. Beyond them hang heavy curtains. Here they will find the room of the fortune teller. Having passed these portals on a former occasion, both Claude and the Canadian know what to expect, so they have no hesitation about drawing them aside and looking beyond. Instead of doing this in the middle, Wycherley goes to one side while Aleck draws his lovely companion to the other. “Courage,” he whispers in her ear, for as the sound of voices reaches their ears, coming from the interior, she begins to tremble. It so happens, whether intentionally or not, that in thus finding a means of gazing beyond the passage, both the men clutch the heavy draperies and in a measure conceal their forms from the view of anyone who might come after. They do not forget they are in the house of enemies--that a dark plot has been formed against Dorothy’s father, and until the old speculator has a chance of showing his hand, they would do well to remain unseen. It is, perhaps, a wise plan. When Aleck takes a peep into the apartment beyond, he sees a stirring spectacle, and yet it does not differ a particle from what he expected. The first figure his eyes light upon is that of Samson Cereal. Standing there the man has assumed a dramatic pose that must fill Wycherley’s heart with delight as he thinks of him as his “first walking old gentleman.” Not five feet away stands Saidee. The indications of her former beauty are still apparent upon her face, upon every line of it intense emotion is expressed. Tears course down her cheeks, her long hair sweeps over her shoulders, both hands are stretched out beseechingly. That is the picture Aleck sees, and he can feel his companion quiver with suppressed excitement as she, too, gazes upon it, and, for the first time since her babyhood, sees the face of her mother.