He has not forgotten the remarkable story which Wycherley poured into his ears as they climbed higher and higher in the great Ferris wheel, and it adds to the piquancy of the occasion to remember how Samson Cereal, the grim old wheat operator, the millionaire, won his bride over in the land of the Golden Horn, and that Dorothy is the daughter of the lovely Georgian who had captivated the pasha. This brings matters to a certain focus. He is led to believe that the presence of Scutari has something to do with Dorothy’s mission. Does she haunt the Midway in order to learn from this dark-brown Turkish dealer in precious stones, the seeming merchant of the gay bazaar, the secret of her mother? At the thought Aleck feels a shudder pass through him, an involuntary shudder, such as would rack one’s frame upon suddenly discovering an innocent child fondling a deadly rattlesnake. To himself he is muttering: “Thank God, I have been allowed to enter this singular game--that Heaven may mean me to be the one who will tear down this infernal spider web in the Midway; the web in which this keen old Turk sits and watches for his fair prey; the web that has been spun with the sole purpose of snaring the daughter of the lovely girl old Samson once snatched from his grasp.” While thus pondering upon the singular train of events that have already taken place, and speculating as to what the near future may hold in store for him, Aleck feels his companion’s hand on his arm. “Come, you must arouse yourself, my boy; there I’ve been chattering away like a monkey for five minutes, and you walk along like a man in a dream. You need a jolly laugh, and here’s the doctor to bring it about.” Looking up Aleck sees the legend: A STREET IN CAIRO. He has been there before, several times in fact, and even the recollection of its boisterous associations causes a smile to cross his face. “Oh, I’m with you, Wycherley, on condition--ahem--that you allow me to pay the fee.” “Pay nothing. I tell you, my dear fellow, I’ve made it the rule of my life to deadhead everywhere. There’s nothing I haven’t seen in this street of nations, the great Midway, and all it cost me was a quarter I paid to watch a Hindoo juggler do some very clever tricks, and I’m laying my plans to turn the tables on him. Watch me hoodoo this door-keeper now.” With which he steps up. The dark-skinned boy holds out his hand. Then the vagabond actor proceeds to make a variety of gestures, such as a deaf and dumb wretch, unacquainted with the mute alphabet of his fellows, might undertake. Aleck is utterly in the dark as to their meaning, or whether they have any, but is amazed to see their influence on the boy. At first he looks disgusted, then grins, and finally throws up his hands in token of surrender. “Come,” says Wycherley, and they enter. “I say, what in the deuce does all that mean?” demands the mystified Canadian.