“Because my sweet mistress would have to testify in court, and expose her own actions. I know them to be entirely innocent--that her motives were actuated by the holiest feelings of the heart, but the public would choose to believe otherwise. And to defend myself I would have to unearth family secrets that would make the name of Samson Cereal the talk of the town. Now, will you prosecute, sir?” “We shall be content if you leave your place in the morning,” replies Aleck discreetly. CHAPTER XII. THE PROTECTORATE ABANDONED. Dorothy is recovering; already she has moved, and it is evident that the influence of the drug, whatever it may have been, is wearing away. The jolting of the carriage may have something to do with her coming back to her senses, for they have not yet struck the boulevard pavement of Michigan Avenue, and the street is in bad order. “Oh, where am I?” she suddenly cries out. “With friends, I trust, Miss Dorothy,” says Craig. They pass an electric arc--she bends her eyes upon his face, and an exclamation announces that she has recognized him. “You? I thought it was that terrible Turk. What have you done this for, Mr. Craig?” and he is delighted to discover a tremulous undertone to her voice--it tells of anxiety. “I see you fail to understand the situation, Miss Dorothy. Compose yourself. You are now on the way home. My friend and I chanced along just in time to put the Turk and his followers to flight, to the amusement of the crowd. We knew no other course to pursue than to engage a carriage and take you both home.” “And Mrs. Merrick--was she injured?” eagerly. “I am here, my dear, and unhurt,” purrs the companion, her manner reminding Craig of the house cat that has sheathed her claws. “Oh, it has been indeed fortunate! Then again we owe you a debt of gratitude, Mr. Craig. How strange!” “How delightful!” he echoes cheerily, desiring to arouse her to something like her old self. “You are very kind. What could it all mean? I am so puzzled. That odious Turk with the eyes that make me think of a rattlesnake--what did he mean to do with me?” “I can only hazard a guess, Miss Dorothy. In his country they have strange customs, you know. Wives are bought, not wooed. Sometimes they are stolen and the settlement made later on. Perhaps this pasha has imagined he can bring his heathen habits over to America. He has evidently fallen in love with you, and desires you for his wife.” “The wretch! Why, they have a dozen or two. I have seen the inside of a harem at Algiers,” she says indignantly. “That is very true; but, looking at things from his standpoint, he was probably offering you the highest compliment he understood.” By degrees he manages to interest her in other subjects. She does not seem to suspect that it was Mrs. Merrick who held the handkerchief over her face, and robbed her of her senses, but believes the Turk himself did this.