“What you paid me I used in the regular routine of my work. By proxy, I saved the girl. There is now one hundred dollars due. Will you pony up?” holding out his hand, at which the furious Moslem glares. “I do not understand. You make sport with me, a pasha. If it were Turkey I would have your head to pay!” he snarls. “Then I am glad it is not Turkey. You thought you had me molded to your liking, but the worm has turned. We are quits, Scutari. _Au revoir_,” and gayly waving his hand, the debonnair Swiveller of the Midway takes Aleck’s arm and saunters on, leaving the gentleman from the Bosphorus standing there, his brown face convulsed with the fury that rends his soul, as he realizes that his amazing scheme has thus far proved a lamentable failure. CHAPTER VI. THE ODDITIES OF CAIRO STREET. Upon the narrow streets of Stamboul a Turkish pasha may appear a very exalted personage, and command respect--upon the Midway Plaisance of the great Chicago World’s Fair he is quite another character, and when he speaks his little piece in English, he may be placed on a par with the itinerant coffee vender, or the dark-skinned doctor who sells the queer muffin bread of the Egyptians in the corner of Cairo Street. “Let the heathen rage and imagine a vain thing,” laughs Wycherley, as he glances back over his shoulder to see if Scutari is still shaking a fist after them. His everlasting good humor is proof against scenes of this sort--it protects him like a coat of mail. What he sees causes him a slight spasm of uneasiness. The pasha still stands there in front of the theater where the Parisian troupe of dancers holds forth, but he is no longer alone, a man with a red fez upon his head is at his side, and to this individual the Turk talks in a voluble manner, pointing in the direction our two acquaintances have gone, as though he would direct the attention of the other to them. Craig has his mind full of the recent surprising adventure. Even the lively attractions around him do not serve to divert his thoughts from Dorothy Cereal and her unknown mission. Why does she haunt the Midway? He might imagine many things that perhaps would not be complimentary to the speculator’s daughter, but when he remembers her face he is ready to stake his life that no guile rests there. Besides, he has not forgotten what she said so earnestly to him, as if realizing that it must shock his sense of propriety to discover a young lady of Chicago’s Four Hundred wandering, with only a middle-aged duenna, about the Plaisance, haunting its strange scenes so assiduously. Why, he can even remember her exact words, and the earnest expression of her lovely face will always haunt him, as she said: “God knows it is no idle whim that brings me here, but a sacred purpose.” Those were her words--he cannot conceive what their meaning may be, but is ready to believe in Dorothy.