John explains the position of his room, having some curiosity to know why the courier asks.
"Monsieur should be careful about leaving his windows open; Arabs climb well; vines very handy; yataghan make no shout. There is no disgrace in being prepared."
This is too broad to admit of any misinterpretation, and John again makes up his mind to continual watchfulness.
He retires to seek rest, to dream of a strange conglomeration of gray eyes, and black and brown—that he is compelled to choose between the English girl, the Chicago actress, and the Moorish beauty, while death waits to claim him, no matter which one he selects.
CHAPTER XV.
THE WRECKED STAGE.
John Craig takes all the precautions that the courier mentions, for he does not care to awaken in the night and find a dark-faced fanatic of a Mohammedan in his room, sworn to accomplish his death.
Perhaps his safety is in part due to this; at any rate morning comes and finds him undisturbed.
When he descends from his room he has a vague hope that some word may have come from Ben Taleb.