“You know there are exceptions to every rule, my dear boy. Since we are under the enchantment of this unknown Circe, let us act as though we believed in the rubbish and have our fortunes told.” “Oh, I’ve done that before. She predicted that I would win much gold, but that it could never stick to my fingers. Think of that. There’s the cool million to-morrow--perhaps she means that--and I reckon she’s right about it not sticking, for how can a man hold that which he hath not.” “There goes the pasha up.” “Now keep your eyes open.” “She does not seem to have noticed him before. See how she starts and draws back as though a sudden fear had penetrated her heart.” “Right you are. I believe she has recognized him.” “And he?” “His actions indicate that on his part he entertains a suspicion, which he is bound to verify. Now he speaks to her. I would that I knew Arabic, that I might translate what he says. My early education was somewhat neglected in that respect. She replies in a low tone--I swear her voice trembles with fear. Why should she dread this man? Tell me that.” “I cannot say. Wait, and we may learn something that will give us an insight. I am deeply interested in all he does.” “Of course,” says Wycherley, chuckling; “because you are concerned about Dorothy’s fortunes. Now the Turk holds out his hand. She takes it. See his bold eyes, they are glued upon her face. The gauzy veil tantalizes Aroun Scutari. I’ve a notion he has come here to-night to settle some doubt, some uncertainty, that has preyed upon him for a long time, and he’ll do it in his own impulsive autocratic way. There! What did I say, Aleck?” There is a sudden movement on the part of the pasha, a feminine shriek, and Aroun Scutari stands there with the gauzy veil in his hand, stands there glaring upon the beautiful face his rude action has unveiled. Immediately the lights are extinguished, and all is darkness. Confusion follows. “Come, let us get out of this!” cries vagabond Claude, and Aleck Craig allows himself to be led into the street of Cairo. He is silent and has suffered a terrible shock, for when that veil was torn away his astounded gaze fall upon a face that has haunted his dreams these six months, and he could swear he looked upon the features of Dorothy! CHAPTER VII. CRAIG BUILDS A THEORY. The idea seems too preposterous to be entertained for a moment, and yet he must give some credence to what his eyes have seen. Besides, the strange presence of Dorothy in the Midway is as yet unexplained, though she has, particularly, promised to enlighten him on the following evening, if he will call.