“I am a stern man, but I hope a just one. Feeling that I have wronged my boy, I am eager to apologize, to make amends. Unfitted for business, even on this day when of all others I should be at my office, for I have momentous deals on foot, I decided to step in here and meet you, for I can assure you, Mr. Craig, I take a deep interest in your welfare. Perhaps you are not aware of it, but I know several of your people up in Montreal and Toronto, and can remember nothing but kindness received at their hands.” “I am glad to hear it, sir. On my part I feel it my duty to inform you that one whom you have looked upon as dead is in Chicago,” says Aleck, while Wycherley chuckles as he wonders which one is meant, and then fearing lest his ill-timed merriment may cause the great operator to look upon him with suspicion, he turns it off into a cough. Samson Cereal fastens his eyes upon Craig, as though he would read his soul. “You refer to whom?” “The lady you ran away with twenty years ago, near the Bosphorus--the mother of Dorothy.” “Good God, man, is she alive and in Chicago? And now I remember--_he_ is here--we met on the Midway and scowled like two pirates. He has not forgotten--but she alive! Then they two must be leagued to do me injury, perhaps through Dorothy.” “You are both wrong and right, sir. He came here to execute the vengeance that has slumbered twenty years, but knew nothing of her presence until last night, when he snatched off the gauzy covering from the face of the Veiled Fortune Teller of Cairo Street, and beheld--Marda, once your wife, stolen from his servants. I don’t know her motive in coming here, nor where she has been all these years, but have some reason to believe it is the natural mother love for her child that has brought her--perhaps she comes to stand between Aroun Scutari and his prey.” Samson Cereal reflects. He is no longer excited, but singularly cool. When personal danger threatens, this man can be like a block of ice. It is this trait that has helped him reach the front rank in his chosen profession. “You speak of his vengeance--have you an idea what he means to do?” “Ah! I see Miss Dorothy failed to tell you all.” “Then suppose you supply the missing link.” “This Turk plays a game of tit for tat. You stole his bride. Patiently has he waited as only a Turk could wait. Now he comes to win a bride by running away with your daughter.” “Curse his impudence! I’ll have his life for it! I’ll lock him up or wring his neck.” “Good enough, sir, but I’d let him get to the end of his tether first. Give him rope enough, and he’ll hang himself.” “I expect you’re right, Mr. Craig. Pardon my impetuosity. It’s seldom I’m aroused like that. I wanted to make your acquaintance, for something tells me we are fated to see more of each other. You are coming around to-night, of course. Bring your friend with you. I must be off to see if that confounded telegram has arrived.” Aleck and Wycherley look at each other.