He made himself known to the captain, and the tedium of the journey was broken by the story of adventure told by the madcap.
When Max reached New York he found himself the head of the firm, and the cares of business life caused him to relinquish the thought of “coining dollars” on the lecture platform; but he made a solemn promise to the author that some day he would tell him the story of his life.
Two years passed, and the author asked the well-known and highly respected merchant to tell the story.
“To-morrow come to us, be our guest for a week, and you shall know all.”
“But——”
“My wife will welcome you as an old friend.”
Max had married a fairer woman than Girzilla, but many a time he declared that no more true one ever lived than the Arab maiden.
When the author reached the Gordon uptown mansion on the following day he was surprised to find so many evidences of the Orient everywhere; but when, an hour later, Max took the author by the hand and led him into a large parlor, he was still more surprised, for there stood, waiting to receive him, Ibrahim and Girzilla.
Sherif el Habib was dead. His nephew had sold the shawl manufactory, and found himself extremely wealthy.