"Dukey!"
It was Hank's urgent summons that sent him to the American's side.
"What are these?"
Hank pointed to the road beyond the copse.
A disordered mob of galloping men were coming toward them.
The Duke looked long and carefully.
"That or those," he said with a sigh, "is the army of His Shereefian Majesty the Sultan of Morocco."
He looked down into the white face of the girl. "In the words of the transpontine heroine," he said flippantly, "we are saved!"
VII
Somewhere in New York, in the Cherry Hill district, lives a lady who at some remote period embarked upon a matrimonial undertaking, and became officially and legally Mrs. Bill Slewer. Happily for her, a paternal government deprived her, at stated intervals, of communion with her lord. Bill in Sing-Sing was an infinitely better husband than Bill at home. When Mr. Slewer finally disappeared, this poor woman hoped most sincerely that she had heard the last of him. But this was not to be, for that same paternal government of the United States of America sought her out.