"Let us get to the hotel as soon as possible," she says to Aunt Gwen.
"My goodness, are you going to faint?" exclaims that good soul.
"Oh, no, I don't think so, but the sooner I am at the hotel the better," replies the girl.
"There comes John Craig. He has been talking with the officer in command of the soldiers, and I guess has made some sort of arrangements for us."
What Aunt Gwen says is true enough, for John leads them to captured horses, and ere long they are moving in the direction of Algiers, escorted by a detachment of the zouaves on foot.
Their trials for the night are over, but they will never forget what they have seen and endured. John is secretly fuming, as he ponders over the facts. If he could only prove that Sir Lionel is the direct cause of all this trouble, he would demand satisfaction from the Briton in some shape. That is where the trouble lies, in proving it. What he has learned thus far can be put down as only suspicions or hints, though they look bad for the Briton.
If Lady Ruth has observed enough to open her eyes with regard to the veteran soldier, John will call it quits.
A thought occurs to him, even as he rides toward Algiers, that causes a grim smile to break out upon his face. It is a thought worthy of a Richelieu—an idea brilliant with possibilities.
"Here are Sir Lionel and Pauline—two despairing people who long for the unattainable. Why should they not be mated? It is perhaps possible, and would be a master stroke of genius on my part. Jove! I'll see what I can do! Great pity to have all the plotting on one side of the house."
From that hour John Craig devotes his whole mind to the accomplishment of this purpose, for he sees the benefit of diplomacy.