“Then you do—oh, Mr. Cereal, think——”
“The lady,” continues the operator calmly, flipping the ashes from his cigar with his little finger, and not noticing Aleck’s excited interruption, “who is veiled, who appears terribly uneasy, and sobs now and then, yet who has not spoken a word on the long journey to the Midway. In short, Mr. Craig, it is my intention to personate my daughter with one of the keenest detectives in Chicago, who can play his part to a dot, up to the climax.”
“Mr. Cereal, I beg pardon. I had not grasped your idea. Now I can commend it as splendid, sir,” says Craig heartily.
CHAPTER XXVI.
AGAIN UNDER THE WITCHERY OF CAIRO STREET.
Another summer day is drawing to a close, and lights are springing up along the merry Midway as if by magic. If a strange, eerie place during the day, with its curious inhabitants and remarkable specimens of world-wide architecture from humble South Sea Island huts to Turkish mosques, Persian palaces, and Chinese pagodas, the effect is greatly lightened when these wonders are viewed by the aid of thousands upon thousands of lamps, colored lanterns, and electric lights.
After the numerous villages and streets, bazaars and countless shops had once got into full working order, each day and night was pretty much like another along the Midway. Only a downfall of rain made a perceptible difference in the crowds that haunted its classic shades. The same weird noises came from every hand, and a succession of sights that made one doubt very much whether he was in the ancient city on the Nile or the modern Babylon, Chicago.
When Aleck Craig and his friend Wycherley turn under the Intra-Mural railway and enter upon the Plaisance, it is just evening, and their thoughts naturally go toward supper. They might have had a much finer meal at any of the restaurants in the open grounds of the Fair, but as in the case of many others, they experience a certain amount of pleasure in dining where they can look upon the shifting panorama of sight-seers and fez-covered Orientals forever drifting past.
All is merriment in the Midway. It is to the great Fair what the variety stage may be in connection with theatricals in general. People go to tragedy to be instructed—to learn of human passions. They look at comedy to see life as it occurs—to weep with misery, to rejoice over the triumph of virtue; but when, wearied with business cares, and anxious to forget trouble for the time being, they desire to laugh, it is farce to which they turn. That is why the variety theater has gained such a hold upon the masses.
Intense devotion to business demands a relaxation that shall be complete.